


Kiss Me, Kill Me

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:29:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 44,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6383971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeonghan pays an assassin to kill him, and Seungcheol falls in love with his target. ((yes, i am @ untrusted on wattpad))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off the movie 'Kiss Me, Kill Me'.

'Yah! Get off me! Hey!'

For the fourth time that week, Jeonghan found himself being thrown onto the cold pavement outside the train station. His face hit the ground like a friendly punch round the gob, all embroidered with grit and trampled chewing-gum. Grunting, he wiped gravel off of his cheek with a grazed hand before mustering up the strength to call out his perpetrators.

'Ya!' he hollered. 'You can't do this!'

Silhouetted by the November sun, one of the security guards, the tallest out of the two, said, 'sir, we've been given orders not to let you inside the train station.'

Jeonghan peeled back his lips into a laboured grin and tilted his head to the side, as innocent as he could possibly muster. 'Why's that?'

'You keep throwing yourself in front of the trains,' the other one said. 'It's getting annoying.'

At that, they turned around and headed back inside. Jeonghan was left lying on the floor, nose and palms now oozing scarlet into the asphalt, with a sense of nothingness sitting in his stomach like he had swallowed an invisible ten-tonne weight, pulling at his rib cage.

It's just so fucking annoying, he thought. I just want to kill myself. Is it really this hard?

After five minutes of remaining sprawled on the floor staring at the bird crap dotting the paving slabs like freckles, he dragged himself to his feet, not bothering to wipe down his joggers, and hauled himself back in the direction he came from.

Seungcheol watched the entire scene unfold from his position leaned against his boss's car. Amused, he blew a protruding strand of hair from his face and threw his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his timberlands.

Suicidal maniacs these days, he thought.

-

Seungcheol slipped the last of the bullets into his gun before checking the address scribbled onto the card. He could hardly read Wonwoo's inattentive spider writing, but he had neither the patience, nor the stimulus, nor the guts to criticize him later. 

His boss' abyssal voice echoed in his head. 

"This one's so easy you'll be insulted."

Cooly, Seungcheol clambered out the car and made towards a set of flats.

"A sleeping man. Single."

He ascended up a staircase, lit cigarette between his teeth.

"Sleeps like a log."

Room 1004 was the last room at the end of a long claustrophobic corridor. Fortunately for Seungcheol, the door creaked open with ease- he didn't have to pursue a strenuous break-in, involving a burly arm clouting the handle. 

Wonwoo was right. This was too easy.

He kicked a pair of dirty joggers out of his path as he curved through the flat, his nose consumed by the smell of shampoo, beer and neglected house plants. He heard breathing coming from a room opposite a kitchen all piled up with pizza boxes and empty bottles; hesitantly, with vigilance, he slipped through the open door that leaked the sound of said slumbered breathing.

He couldn't see properly. A pile of blankets and sleeping limbs were situated, tangled, like a nest, on the carpet. Seungcheol flicked on a light switch and raised his gun.

On the floor lay quiet a sight. Long grey-blue hair spilled from a blanket belonging to a very beautiful face- angelic, with a perfectly shaped nose, perfectly shaped jaw and perfectly shaped cheekbones; dark eyelashes kissed purple-blue rings beneath closed eyes, fluttering as the chest of his victim rose and fell. 

Suddenly he didn't like the word 'victim'. Flustered, Seungcheol lowered his gun and began to rake through his mind. How could he put a bullet through this man's head without damaging his prettiness?

By the time he'd turned his attention back to said victim, a set of deep, coffee-coloured eyes were staring straight back at him. 

Nice coffee, Seungcheol thought, like the posh but overpriced stuff from starbucks.

Then he gave a start. His victim was awake.

They both froze and stared at each other simultaneously. Seungcheol never usually got nervous when killing, but right then, he was concerned about exactly how fast his heart was hammering away beneath his shirt. I'm not the one who's meant to be nervous, he thought. I'm the one with the gun.

Suddenly, the man sat upright in bed, a loose un-ironed t-shirt falling below his collar bone revealing pearly skin. Although he had a bedhead that looked worse than death itself, Seungcheol thought: wow. He's pretty.

Whilst in his daze, Seungcheol didn't acknowledge the fact that Jeonghan had peeled himself away from his bed and was now charging at the assassin, snatching the gun from his hands. Jeonghan took a few steps away from the man before holding the barrel to his head.

Seungcheol was in shock. He was furious. 'Hey, give that back!'

But he was too late. Jeonghan pulled down on the trigger, and a bang resonated throughout the entire apartment block.


	2. The Argument

If it weren't for the fact that Seungcheol had kicked the gun out of Jeonghan's hand right before he fired it, Jeonghan would've been lying on the floor with a bullet embedded in his brain framed by a halo of blood spilling from his beautiful bedhead.

Fortunately, that very bullet was now sat in a shattered light bulb, the hum of cracking glass intertwined with a high pitched 'ping'.

Jeonghan stood with his head against the wall. Embarrassment and a crushing sense of failure pressed him against the beige wallpaper, and he bit down on his cracked lip with such force that he couldn't even feel it.

His assassin towered behind him with his arms folded. 'You seriously hired a hit-guy to end your own life?'

'What's it to you?' Jeonghan muttered. 

'A waste of time,' he fired back.

'I paid you to put a bullet through my head!' the man whined. 'I didn't pay you to complain about it!'

'What, you're too lazy to kill yourself or something? So you get someone else to do it? Is that how easy you think life is?'

'I don't care anymore!' Jeonghan shouted. 'I just want to die!'

Seungcheol scoffed. 'You were the guy that got kicked out of the train station, right?'

At that, Jeonghan turned round. Seungcheol couldn't seem to divert his eyes from the beads of blood gathering on his flushed lips. His cheeks felt warm.

'How come you talk so much?' Jeonghan spat. 'Quit talking and get the job done!'

'Do it yourself!'

'I've tried!'

'Clearly not hard enough.'

'I've tried!' he repeated again, louder, almost screaming. 'I just want to go out with a bang! Is that so hard?'

Seungcheol admitted to himself that, yes, the screaming was pretty hot- but, no, he didn't want to stand there like an idiot getting shouted at. 

So he walked out of the bedroom.

'H-hey!' Jeonghan called after him. He followed the killer back the way he came. 'Do your job!'

Seungcheol spun round and fired his gun. Jeonghan winced. The bullet berthed in a nearby glass cabinet.

Seungcheol growled, 'I hope you live forever, bitch.'

-

Frustrated, Seungcheol threw his car keys against the coffee table as he walked into the office and slammed the door shut behind him. The previously comatose Junhui jerked awake with a prompt exclamation of 'shit', almost toppling off the sagging sofa he was conked out upon.

Seungcheol flicked off the TV and lay on the chair opposite. 

Groggily, still half asleep, Junhui asked: 'you're not going home tonight?'

'I'm too mad,' Seungcheol replied. He glanced across at his coworker, whose tie dangled sloppily around his neck, with his suit jacket gathered round his shoulders, half-on, half-off, and his shoes situated on opposite sides of the room. 'I could ask the same of you.'

'I fell asleep,' he grumbled, rubbing his eyes as if attempting to knead away the fatigue growing beneath his lids. Unsteadily, he hauled himself to his feet, stumbling over the coffee table and narrowly missing flying onto Seungcheol.

The older boy screwed his eyes shut. The thought of his target's eyes consumed his thoughts- coffee, without milk, decorated with plum-coloured bags and sweeping onyx lashes. The way his shirt revealed his porcelain skin and protruding curve of his collar bones made Seungcheol groan aloud. Stupid suicidal maniac, he thought to himself.  
He couldn't sleep that night. It was all down to that stupid man with his stupid collar bones and stupid lashes and stupid hair and stupid everything. Stupid. It was all his fault that he didn't sleep a single wink that night.

Junhui must've left some time during the very early morning, because by the time Seungcheol opened his eyes, the office was empty, and the clock read six. His dozing was probably disturbed by the entry of Wonwoo, who threw one deadpan look at Seungcheol as he passed and then disappeared into the room behind him and junhui's 'bedroom'- into the real office.

Now fully awakened by the unease that dwelled in Wonwoo's aura like a jinx, Seungcheol made himself a coffee. He added more milk than usual, because the colour looked too similar to the man he watched hold a gun to his head in the early hours. It didn't taste right, and he didn't like it. But he couldn't bring himself to look at that colour again.  
Whilst he was watching a re-run of gossip girl, Wonwoo called him into the office.

'Here,' he said, pointing to a pile of money on his desk. 'It's yours. For last night.'

Seungcheol’s stomach turned. He could never tell Wonwoo that he couldn't bring himself to kill that man. His heart rate accelerated, and something rose in his throat, like he was going to suddenly projectile vomit 'I didn't kill him' all over his boss' black suit.

'Take it,' Wonwoo barked. He glared at Seungcheol through his eyeliner-bedecked eyes. 'Or else I'll make the assumption you couldn't put a bullet through a sleeping man's head.'

Seungcheol quickly snatched the money off of his desk and hurried from the room. He lit a cigarette as he stormed out of the office and into the corridor, his mind alternating from the image of Wonwoo's scowl to his target's distraught face, between virulent drags of nicotine. 

He had to see the man again.


	3. The Vodka Bottle

Jeonghan was still rolling around on the floor 2 days later, bathing in the smell of vodka and beer. He'd try to sleep, fail at it, drink, roll around in regret, then repeat the cycle. It was endless. Its permanence felt like some sort of disease- very much like the cause of this entire facade. His hypothesized killer had ruined everything, and hadn't even bothered in coming back to fix it. Now, Jeonghan was 500, 000 pounds down, as well as feeling considerably humiliated. Because of that man.

He wanted to see him again. He needed to see him again. He told himself that if that man ever walked into his flat again, Jeonghan's fist would find home in the bridge of his nose, reduced to splintered cartilage and a faucet of blood, and his killer's ears would be the hapless subject to a stream of profanities, every single cuss under the sun, discharged by the now almighty Yoon Jeonghan.

That's what was meant to happen.

Half way through one of his cycles, Jeonghan found his rolling being abruptly halted by a pair of Timberlands. Miffed, he looked up to discover a set of large, somber eyes boring back. Something twisted inside his chest. 

'What are you doing?' the man asked. 

Jeonghan quickly rolled in the other direction, dragging himself into an upright and presentable state. 'What about you? You're the one in my flat.'

'Are you trying to drink yourself to death? Is that it?'

On cue, Jeonghan tipped his head back and washed down the tightness growing in his rib cage. Slamming the bottle onto the coffee table, he slurred, 'Why would you care?'

Seungcheol gave an exasperated sigh. Uninvited, he sank into the leather of a nearby armchair and looked down at Jeonghan with a pitiful sort of shine in his eyes.

'I was going to give you back your money,' he said. 'But judging by the number of empty bottles you've consumed since I last saw you, i'm not sure you'll be alive to need it.'

'Yah!' Jeonghan hollered, waving his bottle in some vague direction towards Seungcheol, but not quite. 'I am perfectly alive.'

'That's ironic.' Seungcheol walked over to the rather drunk Jeonghan and confiscated his bottle, knocking back the remaining liquid inside. His lips formed an 'o' as the liquor burned the innards of his throat, and he had to scrunch his eyes up to force it downwards as it slid imminently towards his empty stomach. 'Fuck. This is some strong shit.'

'I know, dumbass,' Jeonghan groaned. He began to feel it coming back up to say hello.

At that moment, a loud buzzing sound erupted from a nearby room. It sounded like a phone. Seungcheol looked around, then back at Jeonghan, whose head was now lolled against the coffee table. Seungcheol said, 'You gonna answer that?'

The drunk shook his head. 'You do it.'

Seungcheol appeared from the kitchen wielding a mobile, eyes rolling in disapproval of the asshole's utter laziness, and pressed the accept button.

'Congratulations,' he said as soon as he answered. 'You've reached Assholes-R-Us. Can I take a message?'

There was a stunned silence on the other end. A voice asked, 'Uh, Jeonghan? Is that you?'

Seungcheol looked over his shoulder at the now sleeping 'Jeonghan'. Jeonghan. What a nice name, he thought. I mean, for such an asshole. Okay. A pretty asshole.

'Jeonghan is currently unconscious and under the impression of vodka fumes. Who's asking?'

There was a scoffing sound. 'His fellow employee, Mingyu.' 

Seungcheol was shocked that this lazy asshole actually had a job.

'Look,' Mingyu said, 'I know that Jeonghan doesn't have any friends, so who the hell are you?'

'Seungcheol, his assassin,' he answered nonchalantly. 

'Wha-?'

At that point, Seungcheol zoned out, because he felt a notably limp arm glide itself around the collar of his jacket and dangle idly off his shoulder. Every muscle in his body tensed. He felt the warm, booze-saturated breath of Jeonghan in his ear and down his neck- if he turned round right this minute, their lips would collide. The thought of Jeonghan's lips hovering millimeters away from his cheek made Seungcheol's heart rate become an illegible blur.

'Who is it?' Jeonghan murmured.

Seungcheol couldn't move. Every single cell in his body was screaming. His head was whirling round at a speed he couldn't even decipher. He couldn't even breathe.

Oh shit, he thought. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. Now's not the time to be gay. Not now. 

The voice at the other end of the phone interrupted Seungcheol's frenzied thoughts. 'Hello?'

'Mingyu?' Jeonghan said.

'Hey, idiot, get to the office right now. I don't know who the hell you're with, and I don't care- just get down here.'

'But Mingyuuu,' Jeonghan whined. 'Just one more hour-'

'Now!' and then he hung up.

Jeonghan groaned, breaking away from Seungcheol at last. He violently raked a hand through the knotty mess that was his hair, wobbling on his un-sober feet. 'Ugh!'   
Seungcheol's body seemed to ache as the younger man drew away, almost as if a part of him had been taken away. 

He shivered. Since when was I so cornily gay? he thought.

Jeonghan protested for a good 15 minutes before Seungcheol could finally persuade him to change attire, brush his hair, and climb into the passenger seat of his car. They drove in silence. On numerous occasions, Seungcheol did offer him the cold leftovers of a takeout coffee he'd brought, claiming it was the best cure for a hangover he'd come across, but Jeonghan blatantly denied the fact that he was drunk, even when he demanded they pull over so he could empty out the contents of his stomach into the roadside gutter.

Being the gentleman he was, Seungcheol held his hair out the way of the geyser of bile and rubbed circles on his back encouragingly.

By the time they'd arrived at the address Jeonghan had involuntarily recited, Seungcheol very much wished that he hadn't insisted Jeonghan had gone to work; in fact, he was incredibly tempted to slam his foot against the accelerator pedal and whisk them away to somewhere nice, where Jeonghan would drunkenly breathe against his cheek again and maybe even stop acting like he loathed him. But instead, he found himself pushing the pretty boy out the car, watching him stumble and trip up the stairs towards an automatic door.

'Hey!' he called after him. 'You want your money or not?'

In reply, Jeonghan vomited in a bush again, then flashed Seungcheol a sheepish and somewhat sarcastic grin.

'Treat yourself, asshole!' he called back, then, promptly, found himself being dragged into the building by a tall man with brown hair. The man flashed Seungcheol a dirty look.

Alone in his car, at least, Seungcheol sped off down the street. His stomach ached. Not because of the vodka he'd consumed, but because of the absence of the boy in the passenger seat. He couldn't work it out. Why was this man bothering him so much? 

It wasn't a crush. Was it? It couldn't be a crush. They hated each other. 

He was meant to kill him- not fall in love with him.


	4. The Date

The walk home from work was long for Jeonghan; compared to the ride in with 'Seungcheol' -a name he'd heard the man announce himself as during some phonecall at some point- a ride that seemed way too short, most probably because he was drunk enough to not remember it. He did re-member staring down at a spinning pile of puke, feeling someone's warm hand on his back, and being lugged into his office block by a glaring Mingyu. The rest was a blur. Maybe it was for the best.

The one thing that was cloudless amongst the haze of that morning was the image of Seungcheol. His ebony coloured hair; his eyes, like burnt mahogany; his waxen skin effortlessly forming a chiselled face, both of nature and form. Jeonghan found himself wondering if the only reason for his longing to feel the man's presence was truly to get back his money or cause him harm, or whether some other part of him, hidden deep into the crevices of his conscience, was actually longing for the motion of their eyes locking or the sound of his voice. Or just Seungcheol. Period.

He was sure that Seungcheol had instructed Jeonghan to call him after his shift, purely because the man didn't doubt that the suicidal maniac would dive into the path of an oncoming car or throw himself onto the rail tracks. Jeonghan thought that it was a little harsh- yes, he was suicidal at times, but not always. Some days it was worse than others. Some days he simply didn't have the energy or motivation to even consider it. And today, Jeonghan wondered what exactly was stopping him. Was it his lack of motivation that restrained him from becoming a body seeping blood onto the road, or was it the thought that somewhere out there was an assassin named Seungcheol twiddling a gun between his fingers that wielded a bullet with Jeonghan's name on it? Or was it the thought of the man himself?

He decided not to drink himself to death that night- unlike usual. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling. His eyes traced along the cracks that severed the plaster, and some obscure part of him thought, even that ceiling feels something. What about me? Why can't I?

He was a mess. It wasn't a secret. Jeonghan was a basket case. A shell of a barely-human being. That's why he needed to die. That's why he needed Seungcheol.

And of course, he knew there was only one real reason he had turned into the headache he'd become; one explanation, one root. Of course, that root had flourished, dismally, into one hell of a dilema- the thing that Jeonghan had become.

That reason:

Hong Jisoo.

-

Jeonghan recieved a phonecall not long before midday. He answered groggily and rather reluctantly too.

'What?' 

'Don't ask how I got your number.' he recognized the voice to be Seungcheol's. 'What are you doing today?' 

'Killing myself. You?'

'You can kill yourself tomorrow or whatever. I'll pick you up in 10.' 

They didn't speak much in the car. Seungcheol insisted on having the radio turned up, on a particularly atrocious station, to Jeonghan, which caused said passenger to fiddle with the stations. This provoked Seungcheol to either slap his hand away in a steaming, wordless rage, or let fly about how Jeonghan didn't 'know real music if it punched him in the face' and that if he was going to tamper again, he'd keep him 'alive for as long as possible'.

They arrived at a fairground situated in a disused car park on the edge of the city. The tops of the Ferris Wheel, Helter Skelter and Drop Tower stuck out like a florid sore thumb amongst the dingy landscape, although the fairground itself wasn't all that flashy either. 

'You're taking me on a date to the fairground?' Jeonghan asked as they stared up at an underwhelming pendulum ride.

Seungcheol scoffed. 'Don't flatter yourself. Of course it's not. I bought tickets but my girlfriend cancelled.'

Jeonghan felt something drop inside his chest. Girlfriend?

Seungcheol must've noticed his sudden change in mood, because he said, 'Jealous?'

'Don't flatter yourself,' Jeonghan spat back, then began marching towards an empty merry-go-round. 

The truth was- he felt mad. He wasn't entirely sure why. He didn't have a crush on Seungcheol, but the fact that the assassin seemed to be rivalling alongside his flirtatious consideration of death in the chasm of his head must've meant the man had some sort of importance, even if were meagre. Jeonghan refused to admit that he had any sort of emotional connection to a man he'd just met, so, from that moment on, he was firmly set on keeping as distant from him as possible.

The pair rode the attractions in silence. A few times, Seungcheol would mutter about screaming children or the dear price of candyfloss, but he did keep his complaining to a minimum, which was rare. The one thing he did seem to approve as was the close proximity between him and his companion. He didn't mention anything about it, and the conscious thought of how much he enjoyed brushing thighs with Jeonghan never really crossed his mind, but it was definitely there, somewhere. Their bodies were squished into a tiny Ferris wheel carriage most probably designed for two under-weight children at best- fortunately for Seungcheol. He took his opportunity to admire the absent smell of alcohol on the boy's body and, instead, the presence of vanilla-scented shampoo radiated from the unbrushed hair spilling from beneath his beanie. Seungcheol thought that, underneath the smell of houseplants and sadness, Jeonghan smelt of quick showers, nighttime, mint gum and cheap cologne. Right then, those were his favourite smells.

Seungcheol had been staring at Jeonghan for a good 5 minutes when the younger boy blurted, 'What?'

Flustered, Seungcheol scratched the back of his head and looked the other way, out over the city. 'I dunno, asshole, what?'

Jeonghan hesitated. He seemed desperate to change the subject. 'What's your girlfriend like, then?'

'I didn't think you'd care.'

'I don't,' Jeonghan said rather too quickly.

'Well...' Seungcheol smiled. 'She smells really nice.'

'Is that it?'

'I don't think she really knows how much I love her, and she seems oblivious to my affection a lot of the time, but, yeah, she's cool. And pretty. Really pretty.'

'What's her name?'

'Angel.'

Jeonghan laughed. 'Really? That's her name?'

Seungcheol remained silent. He hadn't seen Jeonghan laugh that much- he'd only ever smiled once, when he threw up outside his office, so to see him beaming like this was a true gift. He felt his walls melt a little as a tiny bit of Jeonghan's soul crept through the grin plastered on his lips, but like most of their meetings, it was over all too soon, leaving Seungcheol with a cold crater in his heart.

'Why did you do that?' he asked.

'What?' 

'Laughed. You laughed.'

'It's just...' Jeonghan glanced down at his fingers. He fiddled, as if something was missing. 'Some guy...'

Seungcheol frowned, and decided to leave it.

Most of the rides closed for lunch except the drop tower. Jeonghan could see the look in Seungcheol's eyes as he looked up at the machine, jaw slightly open, marveling at the screams erupting from the people strapped to it. 

Minutes later, they were 60 meters in the air, surrounded by hollering children, about to have their stomachs enter their mouths.

The drop was all too sudden for Seungcheol. Almost immediately, like a reflex, his hand darted out from beneath the handle it was wrapped so tightly around, and instead found refuge in Jeonghan's. At first, both of them were too occupied in screaming to react in any way, but as the realisation kicked in, both found their cheeks flushing a shade of crimson.

Jeonghan couldn't work out why his heart was beating so fast. Was it the thrill of dropping to an almost certain death, or the thrill of having Seungcheol's fingers wrapped around his?

They silently decided it was best to head home, even though both Seungcheol and Jeonghan blatantly pretended that the holding hands incident never actually happened.  
As they reached the gates, Jeonghan began heading off in the opposite direction of the car park.

'Hey,' Seungcheol called, 'where are you going, dumbass?'

Jeonghan continued walking. 'Home,' he said back.

'I can give you a lift!'

'No.'

Suddenly, their hands collided again, but this time, it was Seungcheol grabbing Jeonghan and spinning him round as if he were about to punch him. Seungcheol glared down at him, angry, snapping, 'What's your problem?'

Jeonghan didn't respond.

'What's life done to you? Why do you permanently have a grudge against everything and anything? Why do you refuse the kindness people show to-wards you?'

Again, he didn't say anything.

'You're such an asshole. You know that? You live life like you've got nothing to lose. Like it's some sort of game. What about the rest of us? What about me?'

Jeonghan's face showed no emotion. Calmly, he said, 'I never asked for you to show any kind of kindness towards me. You don't owe me anything. Save yourself the bother. Go worry over your girlfriend.'

'You think I'm being nice to you because I owe you something? Are you serious? You don't think I just wanted to befriend a stranger on the verge of self destruction because I'm a good damn person?'

Jeonghan stared blankly. 'Goodbye, Seungcheol.'

He yanked his hand away and continued walking. 

'Hey!' the assassin shouted. 'You suicidal maniac, I really do hope you go and kill yourself! Asshole!'

As he walked away, Jeonghan felt hell-bent on doing so.


	5. The Accident

Jeonghan's legs dangled off the edge of the building. Beneath him, the bleary shapes of the city streets swam together like some sort of bleeding painting. Jeonghan hiccupped. He imagined his body lying down there amongst the sea of swirling colours. He wondered if the pretty boy with big eyes would cry over him.

Again, he was drunk. He'd taken the pretty boy's advice, but implemented it a month later. For an entire 31 days he hadn't seen him- and in truth, that month had been the longest month of his life. He tried to drink himself to death every night, taking more than the recommended dose to cure his hangover headaches, but to only throw everything up right before his body would finally give out. He was in another one of his cycles. 

Next to him, on the ledge, sat a line of hollow bottles. The contents sat menacingly in his stomach.

Jeonghan wobbled to his feet. He could hear Jisoo's voice encircling his head, fusing venomously with Seungcheol's.

First it was Jisoo's. 

'I'm sorry, my angel. I love you. I really do.'

Then it was Seungcheol's. 

'What's life done to you? Why do you permanently have a grudge against everything and anything? Why do you refuse the kindness people show towards you?'

Jisoo's again. 

'I can't do this anymore, angel. You know I can't. We can't.'

Seungcheol's.

'You're such an asshole. You know that? You live life like you've got nothing to lose. Like it's some sort of game. What about the rest of us? What about me?'

Jisoo's. 

'I know it's hurting you. I know I'm hurting you. But, angel, really... We were never meant for each other, were we? I mean, you... Compared to me...'

'You suicidal maniac, I really do hope you go and kill yourself! Asshole!'

'I'm leaving, angel. Don't expect me to come back. America offers a lot more than you do. We both know it. This is best for the both of us. Bye, Jeonghan.'

If Jeonghan were sober, the faucet in his eyes wouldn't have been cascading down his cheeks. But the alcohol loosened his heartstrings, and the emotion within him gushed freely like a horrific, heart-felt flood.

'Jisoo,' he wept, 'you left me, you asshole! You took everything from me! I loved you so much!'

A loud sob erupted from his mouth. He thought of Seungcheol with his perfect girlfriend and how much he loved her and how she probably smelt better than he did.  
'Seungcheol,' he screamed, 'you're just an asshole! You were my only hope- my reason to live! And you went and ruined it! Asshole!'

He remembered their interlocking fingers on the ride. As he dug his fingernails into his palm, little crescent-moons of ruby formed, and he thought of the contrast between the softness of Seungcheol's palms to the hardness in his eyes. He wanted to feel his heart racing like that again- like when Seungcheol's cheeks flushed the shade of a coral sunset as their fingers glided together, and, within that moment, Jeonghan felt like he really could live forever.

But, instead, he looked down at the pavement he would meet very shortly, but as a bloody mess. 60 meters. The ride was 60 meters. And that building seemed 60 meters, didn't it?

He snivelled. 'Seungcheol, you asshole... To think... To think I might even've had a crush on you...'

Finally, he sucked air into his lungs for the very last time, and, putting into practice the fantasy enacted in his sick mind every night, leaned into the wind. 

'Jeonghan, you idiot! You can't jump from there! You'll get the pavement dirty!'

Mingyu?

-

The sound of Mingyu's voice echoing across the rooftop caused Jeonghan to lose his balance and fall, unfortunately, sideways. A few of the bottles tumbled off the edge and towards the busy concrete below. He found himself jealous of the shattered green glass, so couldn't bear to watch.

Mingyu hauled Jeonghan off the ground. He yanked him to his feet by the collar of his hoodie- Jeonghan thought he seemed angrier than usual.

'You idiot,' Mingyu seethed. 'I'd always suspected that you were depressed, but really?'

Jeonghan tilted his head back and let a drunk chortle rumble from his throat. This seemed to make Mingyu angrier, and he dragged him off the roof and onto the street below.  
'Y'know, if i were the boss, I'd fire you, idiot,' he muttered as he tried to shove him into his car. But then, rather abruptly, he paused, hearing a commotion outside the building. His face fell slack.

'Jeonghan,’ he said, ‘I think you just killed someone.'

-

Jeonghan and Mingyu sat impatiently in the hospital. They could hear the stranger inside, sat up in bed and talking on his phone. Or, rather, bitching.

'...Yes, like I said. I was walking along and some drunk threw a bottle at me. Yes, I know. It was a pretty good aim for a drunk. What's that? Of course I'm suing. How far away are you? Okay. No, tell Junhui to keep his tears to himself. I won't be seen with a sobbing mess. Sure. I'm hanging up.' He paused and raised his voice. 'Come in.'

Mingyu quickly stood to his feet. Jeonghan didn't stir, which caused his companion to pick him up by the fabric of his hoodie, yet again, and throw him towards the hospital bed.  
Jeonghan nervously straightened up to be greeted by a pair of eyes calloused by thick black eyeliner. They glared back at him, uninviting, and issued like a scold.

'So,' the man said in a voice that matched his unimpressed and somewhat shady face: low and deep- 'you were the drunk who threw a bottle at my head and gave me concussion?'

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. 'I didn't throw it.'

'So you expect me believe that it just fell out of the sky?'

The boy turned it over in his drunk, fuzzy mind a few times before finally nodding his head. 'Yes.'

He sneered. 'Then why are you here?'

At that point, Mingyu burst in, clearly exasperated by Jeonghan's petty replies. Jeonghan could sense he was about to let rip at the both of them, but something stopped him as his eyes settled on the patient. Jeonghan turned- his companion stood there with a little colour in his cheeks, mouth alternating between open and shut like some sort of flustered goldfish.

Jeonghan blatantly ignored his crushing coworker. He said, 'It was a bird. I came to tell you that if you want to fight anyone, fight the bird that knocked the bottle off the ledge.'

He felt Mingyu kick him in the back of his calf. 'You're a dirty liar, Jeonghan,' he mumured, 'even when you're drunk.' Mingyu cleared his throat, and, rather biasedly, attempted to explain the situation that had occurred. ‘Jeonghan tried to jump off the roof. I heroically stopped him but he was so drunk that he fell sideways and knocked a bottle to the ground. I-I would’ve jumped to protect your head from the bottle if I’d realised-’

‘It wasn’t because I was drunk,’ Jeonghan fought back. ‘I was shocked you’d be courteous enough stop me.’

Mingyu made a small ‘tch’ sound.

The man in bed was silent as he looked between both Mingyu and Jeonghan, as if trying to sum up how these 2 idiots had the nerve to make excuses like this; especially with one of them being a drunk idiot.

'Whatever,' he said gruffly. His eyes flickered darkly from Mingyu to Jeonghan. 'Just pay for the damage done and I'll hope to never see you again.'

A small sort of growl came from Mingyu's mouth that was most probably accidental. He looked back at Jeonghan with a glare so terrifying that the drunk felt his legs wobble slightly. Maybe he should've let Mingyu flirt in peace.

The door burst open behind them. In stomped a familiar man wielding a box of grapes which he threw at the end of the bed, rather grumpily.

The man in bed cocked an eyebrow in question. In reply, the other man said, 'Junhui's best regards.'

'I don't even like grapes.'

'I know-' He hesitated. '-Sir. Anyways, where's this drunk idiot I need to shoot?'

Jeonghan hadn't been paying attention. He was too busy gawking at the way Mingyu seemed to be shifting from foot to foot like a school girl in front of her first crush. But then he turned and saw the man standing at the bed and, all within the same moment, he felt his heart melt and drip through his ribcage.

The large, rigid eyes, the plump lips, the angular jawline, the silky hands:

'Seungcheol.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii:^) i know my writing is starting to deteriorate compared to the beginning but i'm trying to keep up with my studies and i guess i'm really eager to get through the filler chapters quickly haha. i'm sorry for the quality decreasing but it's only a sign that there will be massive plot movement!!  
> and thank you for your support!! please continue to comment and drop kudos etc. thank you!!<3


	6. The Bathroom

Seungcheol recognized the voice immediately. He turned, and there he was- in all his drunk, half-dead glory.

Wonwoo scoffed. 'You know this drunk idiot?'

Seungcheol's eyes poured over Jeonghan like he'd seen him for the first time. He saw how his cheekbones were hollower than before, and his skin looked more sallow; his hair was unbrushed and the roots were growing through; his chapped lips seemed too tired to be capable of lifting into a smile. 

He was Jeonghan, but he wasn't Jeonghan. He was a broken version of Jeonghan that was barely holding himself together.

That’s why Seungcheol looked at him as if he were a stranger; because it was a version of Jeonghan that didn’t bring glory to himself- the Jeonghan that Seungcheol thought he knew, or would one day come to discover. Seungcheol looked at him like he might never see him again, because right now, Jeonghan looked like he was about to shatter.

'No,' he said neutrally as he turned back to his boss.

'Liar,' a voice murmured. It wasn't Jeonghan; it was the man standing next to him, in a way that Seungcheol didn't like. Seungcheol had seen him before, dragging him into the office. He presumed him to be Mingyu. 'You're the one he was screaming about on the rooftop.'

Seungcheol's lip twitched. 'Rooftop?'

'He's a suicidal maniac.' Mingyu smirked. 'I thought you'd know, seeming as you're his assassi-'

'I've never met him in my life.'

The words stung Jeonghan.

Before he met Seungcheol, he was numb. He'd felt pain, and it had been so utterly destroying and life-wrecking that he’d developed the inability to feel anything at all. But this man changed that. He made him feel something, even if it was devastating.

'I'm leaving,' he declared, distantly, his thoughts preoccupied, and shoved past Mingyu into the hallway.

His coworker protested, saying, 'Don't leave me to pay for your damage, idiot!'

Jeonghan ran into one of the ground floor bathrooms, but it didn't take long for the assassin to find him.

'Jeonghan.'

Jeonghan was leaning against the inside of a cubicle door as he heard Seungcheol come in. He decided to ignore the man, and focused on trying to fight back the tears dwelling behind his eyes.

'Jeonghan, please.'

Jeonghan tried not to make a sound, but he was shaking, and his body was begging him to release an ugly sobbing noise.

Fighting past the emotion that paralysed his sensibility, he snapped, 'Do I know you?' He thought that the voice that came from his mouth sounded unstable. It matched the state of his mind.

'I'm sorry, Jeonghan, okay? I am.'

'For which bit?'

'Pretending I didn't know you. I swear, it's not like I'm ashamed of being associated with you, but... My job, it's complicated-'

'Whatever. I don't care.'

'What were you doing up on that roof?'

Jeonghan laughed one of his sick, terrifyingly sarcastic chuckles. 'Like you'd care.'

'You tried to kill yourself, didn't you?'

'You told me to. Are you happy?'

By now, the tears were spilling down his cheeks. He couldn't help it. He'd never been an emotional drunk, so he had no idea how to restrain himself. He wept. It poured down his cheeks like it would never stop. The gasps for air filled the bathroom.

Seungcheol wasn't feeling patient anymore. He walked up to the door Jeonghan was leaning against and went to slam his ire-driven fist into the surface, but he suddenly thought of the boy on the other side, fragments of anguish held together by vodka and a snub of enmity. He imagined him there, quaking, his beautiful face crumpled in misery. He couldn’t get angry at Jeonghan.

'I saw that you're skinnier,’ he said, as gently as he could muster. ‘And you’re paler. You're not eating properly.'

'I know you don't care, so just-' Jeonghan bawled, but he cut himself short; the words ‘leave me the fuck alone’ sat on the very tip of his tongue, but he bit down on it, because the very last thing he wanted was to see Seungcheol walk away like everyone else. Instead, he said, 'Just stop it.'

'Stop what? Cold shouldering you? Don't you know how I felt? Having all my kindness thrown back in my face like some sort of joke? Is that what I am to you? A joke?'

Jeonghan snivelled from inside the stall.

'I was nice to you. I held your hair back whilst you threw your guts up and I made sure you made it to work safely and I brought you out on a fucking date and held your hand and you just brush it all away like it was nothing. You brushed me away like I was nothing. Now do you know how shit that feels? Do you?' 

Jeonghan's lip wobbled. He didn't like it when Seungcheol was angry. He could imagine the inferno turning his gorgeous ochre eyes to an unforgiving abyss- and he hated it.  
'Y-you have a girlfriend, Seungcheol.'

'Are you really that stupid?’ The assassin clawed a hand through his hair in indignation. ‘’Angel’ is you-'

The door to the stall swung open and a dishevelled Jeonghan stormed out. His eyes and nose were red and bloodshot; the very sight of it rived Seungcheol's heart vehemently in two. Right now, the pair were intensely close, respiring each other's presence, exhaling the hostility and the fury and the grief. Jeonghan didn't smell of vanilla or showers anymore. He smelt of salty tears and alcohol and hospitals and Seungcheol hated it.

Jeonghan was the first to speak. 'If you're really as kind as you say you are, you wouldn't have left me alone.'

'That's what you wanted,’ Seungcheol fired back. ‘You made it very clear.'

'I never wanted that! I never wanted any of this! I just want to die!' He was crying again. 'Why is everything so fucking difficult?'

'I don't know what to do, and I don't know what you want me to do. You're so indecisive about whether I should stick by your side or leave you alone and it's so hard to please you. Yes, I left you alone for a month, but that's because you screwed me over. It isn't all about you, asshole. You hurt me and it hurts like hell.' I don’t mind getting hurt by you if it means you’re alive. I will do whatever it takes to keep you breathing and smiling.

'I'm sorry, asshole, okay? But I don't know what I want!' you, I want you, you asshole.

Seungcheol lowered his voice and took a step back. 'In that case, I'll wait for you to decide.' I don't want to wait any longer. I don't care what you want, I just want you.

Jeonghan watched in utter despair as the man began to turn around and walk towards the bathroom exit. His heart lurched. He panicked. He didn't want him to leave. He had to do something-

Don’t walk away from me. Please don’t leave me, Seungcheol.

With the remaining strength he could muster, Jeonghan grabbed the man and whirled him round. 

Then he planted his lips on Seungcheol’s.

Seungcheol could feel Jeonghan's eyelashes flutter again his cheek and the boy’s tears bedewing his own skin. He couldn't close his eyes in fear that Jeonghan would disappear from in front of him.

He watched the amber sunset that bled through the windows as it cascaded over the pretty boy's face, and he savoured the vodka on his tongue, and he felt the silkiness of his hair between his fingers, and right then, in that moment, he decided it was love.


	7. The Visitors

I kissed Seungcheol.

I kissed Seungcheol. 

I kissed Seungcheol.

It didn’t seem real. None of it did. Jeonghan found himself wondering if he’d actually fallen off the roof and was now in some sort of gay paradise where he’d snogged his assassin in a hospital bathroom. It had to be a hoax. There was no way in hell that Seungcheol would ever agree to inserting his lips anywhere near Jeonghan’s- nevermind kissing back.

He has a girlfriend, Jeonghan told himself. He’s probably straight.

But what if…?

No, he thought. No. Seungcheol probably isnt’t bi. Definitely not gay. He absolutely took it as a joke and is planning to use it against me at some point. That asshole. I never should’ve done it.

Jeonghan threw his head against the car window he was propped against and discharged a high-pitched drone expressing his sheer embarrassment. Regret devoured him. What the hell had he been thinking? Why did he have to be so dramatic? Since when was sucking the face off the person who hated him most be a good idea?

It was a good kiss, though. Yes. A perfectly satisfactory verging on exceptional kiss.

He remembered disconnecting his lips from Seungcheol’s in a stunned silence before hastily doing a disappearing act. They hadn’t seen each other since. It had been a week or so. Maybe. Jeonghan had lost count.

Deciding to divert his thoughts, he looked over at Mingyu, whose eyes were fixed intently on the road. 

Jeonghan said, ‘You’re all dressed up.’

His co-worker very quickly scoffed and flashed Jeonghan a noxious sideways glance. ‘No I’m not. You’re just underdressed.’

He ignored him, inquiring, ‘What’s the occasion? You said we were meeting Wonwoo.’

‘You’re paying him back for almost killing him,’ Mingyu explained. His cheeks then flushed a shade of a fuscia. ‘I’m just coming along to make sure you actually turn up.’

‘You’re wearing one of your best shirts.’

‘Everything else was in the wash.’

‘You reek of body spray.’

‘I like to smell nice.’

‘You’ve gelled your hair back-‘

‘I’m just trying to look good, alright?’ Mingyu exclaimed, voice raised. Jeonghan smirked to himself- he knew the real reason he was looking more presentable than normal, and it was the contents of a certain eyeliner-wearing man’s pants.

They arrive at a small café nestled into the main labyrinths of the city. Small, but modern, and way too out of Jeonghan’s budget for him to even glance at the menu. As he expected, Wonwoo was already seated in a chair by the window, thin eyes severe as he watched the two men walk through the doors. 

‘Sit.’

Mingyu dropped into the seat next to him, so quick it was obvious that he was desperate, whereas Jeonghan procrastinated for as long as possible before finally sitting himself down, avoiding Wonwoo’s gaze.

‘I didn’t think you’d turn up,’ the man says shortly. ‘I’m surprised.’

‘I made sure he came along,’ Mingyu piped in, his hands pressed against the marble table. ‘He doesn’t usually go outside. I had to drag him by his hair.’

Wonwoo acknowledged Jeonghan’s colleague with a sweeping gaze, fixating his eyes on his. Then he turned to Jeonghan, who was staring idly out the window, head swarming with the image of Seungcheol. Why did Jeonghan have to be stuck with Seungcheol’s colleague and his flirting co-worker instead of the man himself?

I mean, Jeonghan thought, it’s not like I’m missing him or anything. I’m just lonely. That’s all. Definitely not missing him. Why would I miss him? It’s not like we-

‘You owe by 538 pounds,’ Seungcheol’s colleague said. ‘By the end of this week, the latest.’

‘No, that won’t happen,’ Jeonghan snapped blatantly. ‘It couldn’t’ve been that much.’

‘I printed the bill.’ Wonwoo shoved a piece of paper in his face, which was swiftly looked at and swatted away.

‘I can’t pay it.’

‘You can and you will.’

‘No, I physically don’t have the money. I’m in debt.’

‘That’s not my problem. You still have to pay.’

‘It was just a bottle that fucking grazed you!’ Jeonghan cried. 

‘Calm down. It was your suicidal antics that grazed my visuals and prevented me from doing business so therefore, you will pay.’

The boy gave an exasperated sigh and turned to peer through the grimy glass again. ‘Whatever.’

‘I also want you to answer this question. Very carefully, mind.’

Jeonghan didn’t say anything.

‘How do you know Seungcheol?’

He watched his reflection turn as pink as Mingyu did earlier so forced himself to look away, at Wonwoo, in embarrassment. ‘S-Seungcheol?’

Wonwoo stared.

‘W-we’re old friends,’ Jeonghan said quickly. ‘Y’know. Our mums were close. That kind of thing.’

‘Really?’

The boy remained quiet and instead looked to Mingyu, who seemed to be staring back skeptically. Jeonghan shot his coworker a glare.

‘He’s never mentioned you before,’ Wonwoo persisted. ‘I’m curious.’

‘W-we fell out,’ Jeonghan said. ‘Nothing more.’

Wonwoo didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, but sipped from a glass mug of what looked like espresso. 

'What about you?' Jeonghan asked.

The man raised one side of his lips towards the ceiling above. He looked dangerous.

'I'm his boss.'

Jeonghan attempted to hide the car crash in his head. This guy was a master assassin. He was probably hiding a machete down his trousers. And if Jeonghan couldn't pay the debt, that machete would end up lodged down his now tightening throat.

Wonwoo didn't seem to notice Jeonghan's internal screaming and instead threw a glance at Mingyu, who was fiddling with his fingers.

‘And why are you here?’

Mingyu’s head snapped upwards and flooded with colour. ‘I-I just came along t-to make sure he turned up.’ The boy straightened up. ‘I-I mean, I can go if you-‘

‘No,’ Wonwoo said swiftly and, noticing how quickly he’d said it, also became rather red and threw back the rest of his drink like it was vodka.

Jeonghan looked at the 2 and felt vaguely agitated. There was clearly some sort of chemistry between them, even if it was one sided, at that point, and he thought it was unfair- how come they can get along well yet him and Seungcheol couldn’t? How come Seungcheol hated him? How come Jeonghan had to act as if he hated him too? Why couldn’t they just be normal?

Mingyu began small talk, so at that point, Jeonghan impolitely excused himself, feigning a bathroom trip, but actually stalked straight out the doors and home.

-

For some reason the TV wasn’t turning on, despite his frenzied punching upon the power button.

Jeonghan used this time of failure as inner reflection, and collapsed face-down onto the sofa to be consumed by guilt. Again, he was reminded of him and Seungcheol’s facedown; ended rather dramatically with a facecollision. 

His mourning was interrupted by the sound of the TV stuttering itself into life. Dazed, Jeonghan looked up, expecting to see the victim of his thoughts in front of him. 

Instead, a man stood in his front room. He’d never seen him in his life. The stranger looked dodgy, to say the least, and dressed similarly to Seungcheol on their first meeting. Like, ‘I was paid to punch you if you look at me in the wrong way’, kind of dressed. A man clothed identically to him stepped out from behind. 

‘It helps if you turn it on at the plug,’ one of them said. 

Jeonghan hauled himself upright and looked between the pair. ‘Hands off my TV, jerk.’

Almost instantaneously, they drew out guns from their pockets and directed them at Jeonghan’s head. 

The thrill of it filled him first- the torrent of adrenaline; then the deluge of numbness; then the nostalgia of remembering Seungcheol standing there attempting to do the same thing.

He gulped.

‘We’re the people they warn you about,’ the shortest of the 2 says. ‘The teeth of the loan sharks.’ He smiles. ‘Hand over 500, 000 pounds or we’ll put a bullet through your head.’

Jeonghan beamed in reply, standing haphazardly to his feet. ‘I don’t have your money. So, please, go ahead and shoot me. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for years.’

In response, the other man took the fist holding his gun and slammed it into the side of Jeonghan’s cheek. Stunned, the boy fell sideways, crashing to the floor. 

‘Don’t get cocky,’ the short one snarled. ‘That’s not how it works.’

A foot was dug into his chest, with force, and Jeonghan doubled up. If he had any pride, it had all evaporated the moment blood began to dribble from his nose and down his lips. A small whining sound spilled from his mouth.

‘Give us the money. Or else we’ll keep this up until you do.’

‘I prefer the bullet option.’

This sent another booted foot flying at his body, but, this time, it landed in his stomach. 

‘I said: don’t get cocky. You don’t get to choose. Besides- the bullet option is the easy way out.’

‘Get on with it, then.’

Jeonghan’s persistent backchat and relentless audaciousness caused yet another foot to be slammed into the side of his cheek, then his head, then his chest, hand, waist and leg. With each kick, Jeonghan laughed. Warm red liquid overflowed from his mouth and nose, and there was a black smogginess that masked the sides of his vision. It grew and grew until his brain seemed to ache, and he could no longer laugh as the feet found home in his depleted body.

A final strike across his temple completely devoured his vision; his ears rang, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. The pain chewing on his body really did make him feel as if the end was more neigh than he expected.

Maybe, he thought, I don’t actually want to die. Maybe I do want to see Seungcheol’s face once more and apologise for snogging him. Maybe I need him more than I think I do.

The situation was all a blur. Distantly, somewhere, he heard his phone ringing. He stretched out his fingers, as if some part of his mind was attempting to answer it, but his body wouldn’t move. The agony was paralyzing. 

Instead, someone answered it for him. He could only just hear his words over the ringing in his ears, but even the garble that he could decipher seemed unclear at best. 

There was one thing he knew for definite: it was Seungcheol on the other end.

He could hear his deep voice even sprawled on the floor. There were words thrown about such as ‘sorry’ and ‘asshole’ and even the word ‘kiss’.

He needed to get to Seungcheol. He needed to see him. Hear his voice. But despite his desperateness, there was a part of him that screamed: if he saw Seungcheol again before he died, Seungcheol would get hurt too. These men wouldn’t hesitate to shoot the first person that came through the door.

The men were speaking now. ‘You sound like an overprotective boyfriend. How utterly disgusting. I didn’t realise the pretty boy was a faggot, although I should’ve expected he wasn’t right in the head.’

Screaming erupted from the other end. Threats. 

‘Sure, gay boy. I wouldn’t dare if I were you. You have no idea what your boyfriend’s got himself into. Butt out.’

More hollering.

‘Okay. I’ll let you speak to him.’ 

Jeonghan felt a hand ball itself around the fabric of his t-shirt. He was hauled to his feet, with an involuntary grunt accompanying the fire spreading through his muscles and bones.

His phone was pressed to his ear. He could hear Seungcheol.

‘Jeonghan? What the hell is going on? Are you okay? What are they doing to you? Where are you?’

Idiot, Jeonghan thought. Don’t come. You can’t come. They’ll kill you.

‘Seungcheol-‘ Pain interrupted his feeble attempt at protesting. Even breathing was an effort. ‘D-don’t…don’t come, asshole-‘ I need to see you, Seungcheol. Please.

‘Come where? Your flat? Did these bastards raid your flat?’

‘Don’t-‘ Do.

‘Have they hurt you? They’ve hurt you, haven’t they?’ There was rustling. ‘I’m already outside. I’m coming. Stay there. I’m coming, Jeonghan.’

‘Seungch-cheol, don’t!’ Jeonghan bawled through exertion. ‘Please! D-don’t you dare, a…asshole-’ Please. Come. I don't want to die.

The phone was snatched away from him. 

‘He’s right, don’t bother,’ one of the men said. ‘He’ll be dead by then. I mean, he’s already bleeding to death over the damn carpet.’

Screamed insults pursued.

Part of him was craving seeing Seungcheol run through his door, even if he did begin cursing about what an asshole Jeonghan was, whilst another part wished he’d just stay put wherever the hell he was and just not get involved. 

It happened too quickly. The clenched fist around his shirt propelled him away from the beautiful sound of Seungcheol’s voice and towards an inconveniently placed coffee table that reduced itself to shards of glasses around him.

Then, the world spun off its axis, and went black.


	8. The Cushion

The nicotine crept through Seungcheol’s lips and spiralled into the morning air. With every expel of smoke, he craved that the image dousing his thoughts would perish in clouds of grey and white. He needed it to disappear. It was poisoning him.

That memory was the very reason he stood on the balcony of his flat, gazing down upon the comatose city, Loro Piana Andre shirt unbuttoned and capered by a cold current of air.

He closed his eyes. It was there, lingering, taunting- waiting to torment him.

He could see the mountain of glass surrounding the boy’s dainty body: a concoction of shards and blood weeping into the carpet, bespeckling his papery skin like carmine freckles or tiny rosebuds sprouting from his veins. The figure that lay amongst it was ornamented with stains of maroon and evolving blemishes of chartreuse and mauve. At first glance, it was artwork, at its finest and most beautiful; it was as if an angel had fallen upon a bed of snow and the artist had clumsily spilt his watercolours. 

Then there were the men. They stood there, grotesque grins plastered to their faces, glancing down upon the boy with an abhorrent look of pride. 

Seungcheol no longer thought of it as art. His deluded and romanticised scene was instantaneously demolished as he saw the utter horror of it all. It crashed down around him. He wanted to vomit. There was nothing but rage and fear surging through his body, swelling, destroying, and it blinded him. 

It was the fury that put a bullet through one of the men’s skull. The other thug ran. Seungcheol felt too nauseated and enraged to chase after him. Instead, he ran over to the half-dead boy- and promptly collapsed to his knees at the sight.

Back on the balcony, Seungcheol felt sick again. He let the cigarette topple from his hand and ground it with his foot before promptly deciding there was only one place he could be at that moment; one place that would put his mind at rest, at ease.

Jeonghan was asleep when Seungcheol went into his room. He lay there, on the older male’s bed, still wearing his blood-caked clothes. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall off his chest. The hair covering the pillow. The closed eyelids.

Seungcheol acquired one a Donald Duck hoodie from his wardrobe, noiselessly, and draped it over the boy’s frail frame. When asleep, Jeonghan looked peaceful, he decided. Serene. Ethereal. 

The man settled next to him on the bed, ever so quietly, and, after consideration, lay down. He fiddled with the hoodie so that it covered Jeonghan’s dainty fingertips before wrapping his arms around the other male. Seungcheol closed his eyes. If he could ignore the situation at hand, it seemed perfectly romantic and like a picturesque scene from heaven. But it was, dismally, the opposite.

Jihoon had visited earlier. He was a doctor. He’d told Seungcheol that Jeonghan suspectedly had internal bruising and fractured ribs, but that it would heal, like his wounds. He said that Seungcheol would have to help treat the scrapes and the cuts when Jeonghan was awake- so, really, it was a waiting game.

Jeonghan felt so fragile and vulnerable cocooned in his grasp. Seungcheol was afraid that if he let go, the boy would fracture into a million pieces, like the shattered glass, and it would all be Seungcheol’s fault. He couldn’t let that happen. He was already submerged in anguish over the fact that if he’d got to Jeonghan’s flat earlier, even just by a few minutes, maybe seconds, he wouldn’t be in the state he was right now. Truthfully, Seungcheol had been waiting outside the apartment block when he decided to phone Jeonghan. He was going to go up and apologise for the things he’d said during their last rather dramatic meeting, but, for some stupid, stupid reason, he’d procrastinated. And that procrastination could’ve cost Jeonghan his life; it was the very reason he was dented and unconscious, unable to bitch at Seungcheol about what an asshole he was for whatever reason. He missed it. He missed the arguments him and Jeonghan had, even if they were petty, even if they ended in tears. 

He couldn’t stop the thoughts. He couldn’t stop thinking about how fearful Jeonghan must’ve been, yet how he probably smiled, simpered, taking it, because that was how ill Jeonghan was. He thought of the grin on the men’s faces, and he thought of how much he was going to love finding the man who escaped- he’d torment him the same way he tormented Jeonghan, and he wouldn’t show demur or remorse, because that bastard lay his fingers on Jeonghan with ill, befouling intentions, instead of the gracious contact Seungcheol would give the boy, if he ever had the chance, and if Jeonghan would allow it. Or if he wouldn’t. The fact that the vile bastard he was out there somewhere, breathing, living, and maybe even smiling, caused Seungcheol’s stomach to churn with revlusion. His one priority was finding that man and killing him.

Seungcheol didn’t even know Jeonghan. It was all so sudden and it was all so intense. 

But it was theirs, and he cherished it.

Wake up, Jeonghan. Please wake up.

Seungcheol realised he must’ve fell asleep at some point, because he was abruptly awakened by the feeling of the boy stirring beneath his arms. There was a part of him that screamed at him to let go, to draw himself away- that Jeonghan would be sickened to know Seungcheol had been curled up next to him; but there another part that told him Jeonghan needed to know that he was there, and that, finally, he was safe.

Jeonghan most probably still hates me. Loathes me, even.

He silently unattached himself from the boy’s waist and disappeared into the lounge, quickly flicking on the TV. The male stretched himself out over the sofa, pretending to have been situated there for the past few hours. Jeonghan emerged from the bedroom a few moments later, leaden hair unkempt and extruding, eyes slender with lethargy, propping himself against the doorframe as rosy sunlight dripped upon the hollowed curves of his face. He looked like a ghost. 

The assassin stood to his feet, heart accelerating.

‘Seungcheol,’ Jeonghan croaked, ‘what the fuck was I doing in your bed?’

-

Seungcheol was ever so careful as his fingers swept over Jeonghan’s bare skin. He didn’t want to hurt him. In the pale half-morning glow, the boy’s back looked tender and ashen- Seungcheol brushed over his shoulders and neck with high regard to the soft noises coming from Jeonghan’s preoccupied lips. He’d craved this moment for so long. To just press his lips against the boy’s skin, to caress his fingertips along his collarbones, to feel the electricity emanating between them; to be one with him, and to breathe in each other’s being.

Jeonghan gave a small grunt.

‘Seungcheol, it hurts…’

‘I’m being as gentle as I can.’

The boy scoffed. Sharply, he pivoted on his spot sinking into Seungcheol’s sofa and snapped, ‘Antiseptic fucking stings, you asshole. You’re just lathering it on like there no tomorrow.’

‘I’m doing you a favour, jerk,’ Seungcheol snorted. ‘You said you couldn’t reach your back, so here I am, cleaning up your scratches, but all you can do is whimper like a baby.’

‘Give me a break. I almost died.’

‘Almost. But you didn’t.’

Jeonghan muttered something beneath his breath.

Sighing, Seungcheol rubbed his clammy palms against his jeans and returned the medicine box he’d been using to its habitat in the kitchen.

‘I’m making pancakes,’ he called, head inside a cupboard. ‘What toppings do you want?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

Seungcheol glanced over his shoulder. The boy was sitting with his legs tucked into his chin, peeking out over the dismal form of the city. Seungcheol wondered what he was thinking about. Was he still scared? Aching?

He brightened his voice. ‘What about Fruit Loops?’

Jeonghan hesitated. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Don’t lie to yourself.’ Seungcheol began rummaging through another cupboard. ‘Lucky Charms? Cookie Crisp?’

Jeonghan didn’t reply, so Seungcheol pouted. He hopped down off the stool and poured himself his breakfast, before stealthily seating himself next to the other male, who had now slipped back into a T-shirt. He chewed noisily and purposefully- it was a deliberate effort to make Jeonghan give in and admit to wanting food to fuel his devoid shell of a body. Seungcheol wanted him to eat. He didn’t want him to come to any more harm.

The boy seemed oblivious to his intentions and instead fiddled with the ends of his hair. ‘You never really answered my question.’

‘Huh?’

‘Why am I here? At your apartment?’

Seungcheol paused his chewing. He rolled the idea around in his brain. Don’t sound too protective. He’ll get creeped out. 

‘I just thought it would be safer.’

‘How come?’ Jeonghan stopped twiddling his fingers around his locks and turned to face Seungcheol. ‘What did you do?’

The assassin swallowed down his mouthful of food and evaded the other boy’s inquisitive gaze. ‘I shot one of them.’

Jeonghan didn’t seem all the shocked. Despite the astounded comprehension that Seungcheol had shot dead a thug that was probably percolating blood into the carpet of his own flat, he felt wickedly relieved. Justice was done.

He nodded slowly. ‘That’s good. Right?’

Seungcheol stared into the swirling milk in his bowl. He was losing his appetite. ‘One of them is still alive. He’s out there somewhere. He might want revenge.’ The man exhaled shakily. ‘You’re the main target.’

Jeonghan glanced down at his lap and remained silent. 

His head was screaming at him.

Seungcheol actually shot one of them. Seungcheol cares. 

‘Were you not scared?’ he asked. ‘Of getting shot or something?’

The man gave a dry laugh. ‘It’s my job. Of course I wasn’t.’ I was so, so scared that they’d hurt you. I’ve never been more scared in my life. ‘What about you? What was it like?’

‘Surprisingly dull.’ I was terrified that I’d never see your face again. Terrified. ‘I mean, they didn’t even try.’

‘That’s some kinky foreplay.’

‘Hey!’ Jeonghan took a cushion and thrust it at Seungcheol’s head. Milk spilt from the bowl and over his trousers.

He made a small snarling sound in anger. ‘You asshole! These jeans are Saint Laurent!’

‘Ever heard of a washing machine?’

Seungcheol snatched the cushion from the boy’s hands and whacked it round his head in return. 

‘Bastard! I’m injured! I have a head injury!’

‘Ever heard of a plaster?’  
Jeonghan seized the cushion again and thumped it over his head, repeatedly this time, whilst crawling closer to him. He laughed. Seungcheol made small noises - half-cries, half-laughs - whilst protesting in vain. Jeonghan just hit him harder. 

‘Stop, asshole!’ Seungcheol shouted.

‘Fuck you,’ the other boy said between restrained giggles. By now he was virtually in the other man’s lap. Jeonghan wasn’t aware of it as much as Seungcheol, who was using every piece of strength to not do anything too drastically gay. 

He failed.

In one swift motion he slammed his cereal against a nearby lamp table and launched himself upon Jeonghan, grabbing both of his small wrists between sturdy hands and shoving him against the sofa. He was careful not to land upon him, but instead hovered above, thighs pressed against his, face merely millimetres above Jeonghan’s. 

Jeonghan could feel Seungcheol’s warm breath against his lips. He could taste it. He could see the colour developing upon his angular cheekbones, and he could feel his own heart beating ever so furiously- his chest rapidly heaved in an out, panting, consumed by the prospect of being restrained by Seungcheol who was virtually lying on top of him. He forgot how to breathe. His head was spinning. Him. Seungcheol. It was amazing.

Seungcheol leaned down further. And further. His lips brushed against Jeonghan’s pink cheeks and towards his ear. 

‘Stop. Fucking. Hitting me.’

All Jeonghan had to do was stretch upwards, hardly at all, and him and Seungcheol would be in the same position they were in only a few days ago. In each other’s mouths. Loving each other.

He narrowed his eyes and, unconsciously, bit down on his lip.

‘Make me.’

Seungcheol’s eyes searched Jeonghan’s face for a few moments. They settled upon his lips- and stayed there.

‘You asshole, Jeonghan.’

He suddenly began laughing, sourly, and effortlessly drew himself away from the hot mess sprawled beneath him. The man sprung to his feet and said over his shoulder, ‘I’m going to shower. Don’t intrude.’

As soon as he heard the bathroom door close, Jeonghan shot up into a horizontal position. His heart was still thumping inside his ribcage, threatening to spill up out his throat. He tried to compose himself by raking his fingers through his knotty hair, still wheezing, his world still whirling and spiralling and swimming. Everything in his body screamed his name. Seungcheol.

I’ve fallen for him. I’ve fallen for my assassin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the beginning of the second half deliberately meant to be misleading lmao)  
> this chapter was planned to be fluff?? kinda?? but it didnt turn out that way:-( i rushed this chapter so apologies if its badly written and there are typos or whatever:/  
> i promise there will be a lot more dialogue and explanations and fluff in the next chapter!! :-)  
> thank you for supporting KMKM~~ <3


	9. The Selfie

It was spontaneous sort of thing; the dragging Jeonghan into his car, driving him into town and chucking him out in front of a kebab stall. Jeonghan had given up on trying to convince Seungcheol he wasn’t hungry, and eventually had to falsely admit that, yes, he was starving, and, yes, he’d love Seungcheol to buy him a kebab. Unwillingly, he chewed on it, as a now contented Seungcheol walked beside him, humming quietly, and flashing glances at Jeonghan nibbling. It made him smirk.

Jeonghan didn’t want to admit that he did actually quite enjoy the kebab, and that the fact that Seungcheol bought it for him made it taste even nicer. In a cliché, high-school-crush sort of sense, he felt warm and fuzzy.

It was a warm day. There were lots of people walking about the high street; families, couples, that kind of crowd. Strangers would throw the pair a glance, as if to say, ‘What’s a butch thug doing with a delicate young man like that?’. Jeonghan felt self-conscious. He always had done. People would often misgender him, and it made him feel uncomfortable and embarrassed. They used to throw him insults. The words would pierce his skin like a cigarette, burning deeper and deeper as time passed. He’d thought he deserved it. The words. The pain. 

Even though he still felt very aware of all the looks he received, Jeonghan, for some strange reason, felt safe next to Seungcheol. Although someone like Seungcheol walking next to someone like Jeonghan would probably provoke more of a stir, Jeonghan felt relieved to be brushing shoulders with the other man. He couldn’t quite describe it. It just felt like he was meant to be there.

Seungcheol glanced down at the younger male. ‘Is it nice?’

‘Hm?’

‘The kebab. Is it good?’

In truth, it tasted like the best kebab he’d ever eaten. But Jeonghan shrugged. ‘I s’pose.’

‘Well, I can tell. Most of it is over your face.’

Jeonghan froze and stared up at him, mortified. Maybe that’s why people were staring. He was guzzling down a kebab like he hadn’t eaten in a year- which was probably true. 

He quickly brought the back of his wrist to the skin around his mouth and frantically began wiping away the sticky brown sauce. His cheeks felt warm with anger.

Seungcheol gave a small chuckle and leaned down. ‘Don’t get embarrassed. They’re probably staring at you because you’re pretty.’

Again, Jeonghan’s muscles tensed up and he couldn’t move. His complexion turned a darker shade of pink as he watched Seungcheol soak up his reaction.

‘D-don’t make a sick fucking joke like that, you asshole,’ Jeonghan mumbled whilst still wiping at his cheeks. 

‘Who said it was a joke?’ Seungcheol slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘I mean, in some people’s eyes, you must seem pretty.’

The boy’s heart sank. So not in your eyes, then.  
The pair walked in a comfortable silence until reaching an area of green that stretched out between shops and trees and sculptures. Everything looked as if it were from some sort of TV romance drama: all smiles, sunshine and gooey eyes. Seungcheol could see Jeonghan’s lips part in awe at the landscape and, spontaneously, tugged at the sleeve of his jumper. He led the boy across the park to a quiet spot glowing with sunlight yet dappled with grey shadow. Seungcheol dropped down. He lay on his back, eyes closed, yet opening to flicker a glance over at the hovering Jeonghan. Taking the hint, he joined him, lying on his stomach in the sun.

The assassin absentmindedly began fiddling with the daisies that mottled the grass. He watched Jeonghan unconsciously pout as he plaited the ends of his hair and looked around. Seungcheol thought he looked happy, and couldn’t help but feel his own lips tug upwards.

‘Hey, asshole,’ he spoke, ‘we’ve never actually talked, right? Like, talk-talk. Like normal people do.’

Jeonghan hummed a little in response. ‘I hired you to kill me. I don’t think that makes us normal.’

‘It’s ironic, maybe. But still. We should try it out. The talking thing.’

‘Alright.’

Seungcheol chewed on his lip. ‘Why did you try to kill yourself?’

‘I’m suicidal,’ Jeonghan said plainly. 

‘Obviously- but why?’

‘Do I need a reason?’

‘I know there is one.’

He stopped plaiting his hair and looked over his shoulder at Seungcheol. The man was crafting something with his fingers. 

Jeonghan looked up at the sun and squinted. Despite the warmth that radiated against his cheeks, ‘Fine. My fiancé left me and flew to America.’

Seungcheol stopped tampering with the flowers. He felt an iciness descend upon his shoulder blades. The shade felt too cold.

Fiancee? he thought. Jeonghan was engaged? 

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to dwell on it. He didn’t want to even consider the fact that Jeonghan had looked at, presumably, a girl and, and had even got down on one knee. He didn’t want to imagine him saying, ‘Will you marry me?’ or ‘I love you’. It didn’t settle right in his stomach. He hated it.

The man cleared his throat. ‘Was she nice?’

He watched Jeonghan’s head suddenly drop towards the grass. Maybe the silence was a subtle way of saying, ‘I’m really too hurt to talk about it’. Seungcheol didn’t press for more information, despite his overwhelming sense of curiosity- and somewhat utter jealousy. Coming to mention it, he didn’t want to talk about it either.  
Eventually, Jeonghan asked, ‘So you’re an assassin?’

The man nodded.

‘How many people have you killed? Like, how many per week?’

He shrugged. ‘It depends. Five. Ten. Sometimes groups.’

‘And you’re cool with killing that many people?’

Seungcheol pouted his lips thoughtfully and tilted his head. ‘I wouldn’t say I’m ‘cool’ with it, no. But it’s my job to kill people. Simple as that.’

‘Does it pay well?’ Jeonghan queried.

‘You’ve seen my flat. What do you think?’

Seeming as he’d been unconscious for most of his stay back at Seungcheol’s flat, Jeonghan hadn’t had a chance to appreciate his surroundings. But he supposed Seungcheol had a reason to be smug. It was very modern and rich-looking; everything was pristine clean and organised, with dark colours and sharp corners and tall ceilings and large windows. But it just looked too clean. Like it hadn’t been lived in. Like it wasn’t an actual home.

‘Alright,’ Jeonghan mused. ‘But what’s with the cleanliness?’

‘I don’t like it. My flat. I don’t like having a whole space to myself. It’s okay when I have friends around, but as soon as I’m left alone it just feels too big. It reminds me of how much I’m getting paid for such an immoral job.’ 

‘Sounds fair.’

Seungcheol looked up. ‘What about you? What do you work as?’

Simpering, Jeonghan pushed himself to an upright position and turned to face Seungcheol. ‘Nothing as exciting. I’m a proof reader.’

‘You get paid to call people out for their mistakes?’

‘Basically.’ Then the boy began plaiting his hair again. 

‘Is it fun?’

‘It’s not nearly as exciting as killing people, and it makes me want to die on a daily basis, but it’ll do.’

Seungcheol smirked. He waited. Then he said, ‘I’m 22.’

‘Me too.’

‘I like hip-hop. And dogs.’

‘I like sleeping.’

‘I have a black belt in Taekwondo.’

‘I secretly nap in the bathroom at work.’

Seungcheol laughed.

The pair remained in a comfortable silence again. The assassin watched Jeonghan sit there, legs crossed, fingers weaving strands of hair into an attempt of a plait. The boy would sigh every now and then, irritably undoing his work and starting again. Seungcheol didn’t like to see him in such a bothered state. 

‘Hey, come over here.’

Jeonghan looked up from beneath his furrowed brows and sunlight-brindled lashes. Seungcheol could see him hesitating. 

He rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not going to do anything gay, don’t worry.’

Jeonghan still looked apprehensive but drew himself closer to the other man. He became very aware of his quickening heart rate and was glad that Seungcheol couldn’t see the pink hue rising to his cheeks.

Seungcheol took his arms. ‘Closer.’

Jeonghan shuffled back again.

‘Closer.’

Jeonghan scooted back so that, again, he unknowingly found himself sat in Seungcheol’s lap. The man’s warm breath skimmed the nape of Jeonghan’s neck as he looked over the curves of his upper body. Carefully, he stroked his fingers through the boy’s hair and began criss-crossing sections into a rustic braid falling over his shoulder.

Jeonghan daydreamed. He tried to remember the last time someone fondled his hair- or, in fact, made any sort of physical contact that wasn’t a punch to the face. Seungcheol was the first in a very long time. Ever since Jisoo.

He thought about Seungcheol. He thought about the fact that, right now, the very boy whose presence he craved was in his vicinity, and Jeonghan was able to breathe in his nearness and existence and ambience without worrying he’d disappear. It was a bittersweet sort of feeling. He was relieved, yet it made him sad that it was his greatest fear.

It was as if Jisoo had hurt him so much, he was unable to move on. Jisoo would always be there- a voice excavating a chasm replete with tormenting words and memories. The chasm would never let him sleep. It would never let him rest at night. It would never let him grin. It would always be reminding him of things, and it would always be ruining him- and it made Jeonghan feel so utterly and hopelessly weak. The fact that, right now, a man he’d grown to love was trying to offer him a part of his heart and all Jeonghan do was toss it away or deflect it, instead mourning over words he should’ve obliterated long ago. Now, he was hurting the person he cherished just because he was in pain himself. It wasn’t fair. Seungcheol deserved so much more than him. Seungcheol deserved the world- not its downfall, concentrated into the mess of a carcass that was Jeonghan.

‘Done!’ 

Seungcheol’s voice brought Jeonghan back to reality. Eyes moistened by his thoughts, Jeonghan blinked away the blurriness and looked up from staring at the grass. Seungcheol was holding out his phone that bore the boy’s reflection.

A rustic yet beauteous braid hung over his right shoulder, flecked with small white flowers. Those same flowers formed a crown of daisies sitting upon his head as if it were a halo. Jeonghan was in awe. His eyes brightened. Not because of how beautiful he looked, but because of how beautiful Seungcheol’s work was. 

Seungcheol saw Jeonghan’s jaw drop and it ignited a flourishing sense of warmth within his chest. Also, the boy looked beyond ethereal- even with shadows beneath his eyes, bruises on his cheeks, or scrapes to his skin. To Seungcheol, he’d always looked ethereal. But now, even more so.

‘Do you like it?’ he chirped.

‘Wow,’ he breathed. ‘I mean- yes. Well, I suppose it’s alright. But where did you learn this?’

‘YouTube. I don’t know how I ended up on a ‘Tumblr Summer Hair Tutorial’. It just happened.’ Seungcheol paused. ‘Hey, let’s take a picture.’

Jeonghan didn’t really have time to protest as Seungcheol repositioned himself so that he was peering over Jeonghan’s shoulder. Seungcheol grinned at Jeonghan through his reflection, then said, ‘Smile, asshole!’

Seungcheol snapped the picture before Jeonghan could hide the beaming smile that had begun to tug on his lips. He groaned as Seungcheol snatched the phone out of his sight and began inspecting it, saying, ‘Aw, you looked so adorable.’

‘Bitch!’ Jeonghan yelled, and tried to take the phone from him. ‘Delete it!’

Seungcheol flashed Jeonghan his homescreen. The wallpaper wielded the two of them, smiling, ruddy-cheeked, and happy.

‘See? Cute.’

Seungcheol noticed Jeonghan blushing. He noticed the way his lips were curved ever so slightly upwards. He noticed that Jeonghan looked happy, and, because of it, he felt happy too.


	10. The Soup

‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Pretty Little Liars? Or Gossip Girls?’

Seungcheol peered round his bedroom door to find Jeonghan sprawled across his sofa, TV remote clutched in hand, and hoodie removed to reveal a loose tank top; his hair still remained in the plait Seungcheol had made this morning, although Jeonghan refused that it was because he actually liked it. Seungcheol returned to the mirror to continue applying face product, calling, ‘I need to finish the 5th series of Gossip Girl.’

‘But,’ Jeonghan protested, ‘I need to find out who ‘A’ is.’

‘If you don’t let me,’ Seungcheol said whilst patting his face with a towel, ‘I’ll spoil it for you.’

‘Hey! That’s blackmail, asshole!’

Seungcheol slipped himself into a t-shirt and plonked himself across from the other boy. He said, ‘It’s not blackmail. It’s strategic thinking.’

Loudly, and somewhat childishly, Jeonghan made a huffing sound. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked at the other man. This was a different Seungcheol to the assassin he usually came across. This was a Seungcheol dressed down, clothes simple, face bare, fresh- an absolute contrast to the normal Seungcheol, whose clean-pressed, cufflink-studded shirt would strain atop of burly muscle, whose hair would be scrupulously gelled and combed back, whose semblance would be masked with Hugo Boss, the smell of cigarettes and skyscraper meeting rooms. This Seungcheol felt like the real Seungcheol. It felt like a Seungcheol he knew; one that would peel back his visage to reveal a raw yet mundane man who wasn’t afraid to express sincere feelings towards Jeonghan, or hold him, or laugh with him, or make him feel loved.

Jeonghan’s cheeks flushed garnet.

‘Stop daydreaming and hand me the remote,’ Seungcheol said, humour lightening his words, spoken for the third time, because Jeonghan hadn’t been paying attention. He quickly snatched the remote away from Seungcheol and selected Pretty Little Liars- then sat on it.

A frustrated groan came from Seungcheol’s mouth. ‘You asshole, Jeonghan.’

Seungcheol made it very clear he didn’t want to be watching Pretty Little Liars by pouting with a face of thunder and glaring at Jeonghan the entire time. Jeonghan, meanwhile, focused his eyes on the screen; his mind, however, was concentrated on both the thoughts swirling round his head and the man sat opposite. His eyes followed whatever was going on in the episode, but the sense of nostalgia, remorse and wistfulness that swarmed his thoughts diverted his attention elsewhere.

He pictured himself, arms encasing Jisoo, pools of late afternoon sunlight gushing over the latter’s gracefully carved features, with a TV show garbling away to itself in the background. Jeonghan didn’t know what show it was. He wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were focused on the boy he was nestled into; the smell of Jisoo’s sweater- bubblegum, Sundays, faint cologne-, the way his earth-coloured hair fell against his face, and just him. He was so in love that the stupid TV show didn’t matter, nor the fact that Jisoo’s parents could’ve walked in at any moment and shouted at them both, abhorred, nor nothing else in the world. Jisoo was his world. Jisoo was everything he’d loved, and he’d wanted nothing more in the world.

It was just such a shame that it wasn’t mutual devotion.

Jeonghan was brought back to the present with a slap of disgrace. He couldn’t just sit there, aching, whilst he was being sheltered and cared for by a man who knew nothing of the selfish thoughts going through his mind. Quite frankly, Jeonghan thought, you need to get over it.

He felt the piece of sofa next to him sink down. He just didn’t register it. For some peculiar reason, Jisoo was the only thing running through his head. It was swamped him. It wasn’t a fond sort of sense, either. It was the perk in his lip as he snarled words at him, the cold edge to his eyes as his eyes settled upon his own, the snatching away of his wrist- everything that made Jeonghan regret ever falling in love in the first place.

‘Jeonghan.’

He looked sideways. There sat Seungcheol, tawny eyes soft, warm; him, soft, warm- such a contrast to the man that had been preoccupying his mind. It was such a relief to see him. It was such a relief to know that Seungcheol was sat next to him, and that he could just reach out and take his hands, or wrap his arms around the man’s body, or even press his lips against his. The very thought of it seemed to soothe the sting of his memories and the hurt that ate away at him. He couldn’t understand it. How could a man he barely even know mean so much to him? 

Seungcheol placed a hand upon Jeonghan’s arm. ‘What’s wrong?’ 

Jeonghan felt too numbed to speak. He felt so selfish. So, so selfish. The sensation fused with the almost paralysing realisation that Seungcheol was touching him affectionately, and that he actually cared.

‘You’re not focusing on your stupid Gossip Girl. You’re a million miles away. What’s up?’

Again, Jeonghan couldn’t speak. He just stared. His eyes soaked in Seungcheol’s features and the way his full lips were parted thoughtfully. Jeonghan could see him searching his own face, trying to read the thoughts that churned beneath his sodden eyes. Jeonghan knew his eyes were filling up with tears. He knew he would start crying any moment, but he had no idea why, and, in Seungcheol’s company, he didn’t feel afraid to reveal exactly how broken he was.

‘Jeonghan?’ Seungcheol took both his wrists ever so gently. ‘Jeonghan, you look like you’re about to cry.’

He felt mute. Staring at Seungcheol, it felt like everything he wanted to say, the man already knew. He had a million things to say, yet nothing to verbalise. 

Seungcheol tilted his head ever so slightly. ‘Jeonghan, tell me.’

It felt like Jeonghan no coordination with how his mouth moved as he croaked, ‘I loved him. I loved him so much, Seungcheol.’

Ding dong.

For some reason, Seungcheol couldn’t move. He was stunned. ‘Him’? Jeonghan was gay?

The bell rang again. Twice, this time. Angrily.

‘I-I’ll just-‘ Seungcheol cut himself off. Rising to his feet, he began to float aimlessly to the door, dazed, and opened it.

To his horror, it was Junhui. 

His coworker was dressed in the black suit he wore to work and wielded a pharmacy bag, as well as some sort of container with liquid inside. Junhui looked Seungcheol up and down, deadpan, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well? Can I come in?’

Seungcheol struggled for words yet stepped aside as Junhui strode into his kitchen and set his bounty upon the table. He was about to open his mouth to speak when he sighted Jeonghan sit-ting on the sofa, eyes slim with suspicion. 

Junhui looked over at Seungcheol. ‘I brought you soup and antibiotics, seeming as you called in sick with a stomach bug.’ His eyes flittered towards the boy on the sofa. ‘But it seems like you’re in perfect health already.’

Seungcheol pressed his lips into a straight line, glowering at the floor. Shit.

‘J-Junhui, I can explain-‘

‘I won’t say anything to Wonwoo, so don’t bother. Just know that I had to do your errands all day. I had to shoot a guy on the toilet. On the toilet. Does that sound like a professional job to you?’

‘Thank you,’ Seungcheol said. ‘Really, Junhui.’

‘You owe me.’ He gave a short, sharp sigh. ‘And I brought all this soup too. I’m not carrying it back. You have to eat it.’

Seungcheol hesitated.

Junhui turned round to face the seemingly invisible Jeonghan who was trying to remain silent on the sofa. Junhui nodded towards him. ‘You’ll eat it, right? Most girls like soup handmade by the handsome Wen Junhui.’

Jeonghan abruptly stood to his feet. ‘I have a fucking penis, you bitch.’

Accordingly, Seungcheol’s co-worker clamped his mouth shut.

The three sat in absolute silence as Jeonghan slurped his way through the chicken and sweetcorn soup. Seungcheol sat next to him, almost protectively, staring warily across at Junhui. The visitor shot glances between the pair whilst narrowing his eyes every now and then, as if mentally summing up some sort of inquest. It terrified Seungcheol. What was Junhui going to say next?

In all honesty, Seungcheol was still in shock. Jeonghan was gay. This man that Jeonghan had loved- was it his fiancée? Was he engaged to a man? Was Jeonghan actually capable of feeling attraction towards men? Was Jeonghan capable of feeling attraction towards Seungcheol?

Could, possibly, my feelings finally become mutual?

‘Is it good?’ Junhui said towards Jeonghan. The boy looked up with anxious eyes yet hardened as soon as he saw himself being countered by the younger man.

‘It’s decent.’

‘It’s a Chinese recipe,’ Junhui explained. ‘It involved me slaving over a stove for a few wasted hours, so it better taste more than decent.’

Seungcheol butted in, ‘Jeonghan means to say it’s lovely. He says thank you.’

He kicked the boy in the leg.

‘Thank you,’ Jeonghan mumbled grudgingly, then, slower than before, began eating again, whilst being sure to avoid Junhui’s piercing gaze. His throat felt tight.

The three of them remained like this until Jeonghan finished his soup. As soon as he finished chewing his last mouthful, Seungcheol snatched the empty container and shoved it towards Junhui’s face, saying, ‘It’s been great having you. You can leave now.’

Junhui narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re chucking one of your bestest friends out, even after I’ve cared so lovingly for you?’

‘We both know that’s not quite true.’

Junhui’s upper lip twitched in response, and he rose slowly from his seat at the island. He pulled down on his blazer. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He directed his attention towards Jeonghan. ‘Could you accompany me out the door?’

Seungcheol went rigid- even more so as he saw Jeonghan willingly follow Junhui towards the doorwell. Junhui, you jerk, if you do anything sneaky-

Making sure he was out of earshot, Junhui leaned towards Jeonghan’s ear. He murmured, ‘Was the sex good?’

He drew away slowly in order to cherish the other boy’s expression. But, coolly, Jeonghan just smirked. 

‘Oh, it was great, thanks.’

Junhui gave a small scoff in reply. He turned the handle of the door and made to leave. Shortly before he did so, Jeonghan grabbed his sleeve and, from behind, muttered in his ear.

‘He sure screams real loud.’


	11. The Balcony

Seungcheol woke that night to a feeling of uneasiness settling in his stomach. His flat felt cold, as if someone had opened the door leading to the balcony. He opened his eyes to discover that the sofa across from him was empty. Immediately, he stood to his feet.

Although Seungcheol had insisted otherwise, Jeonghan had stood firm on the fact that he was very used to sleeping on the floor or not at all, so a sofa would do him no harm at all. The assassin was incredibly reluctant to watch the boy spread himself across the cushions, but, truthfully, he did look content, so Seungcheol pretended to fall asleep in his own bed before checking Jeonghan was fully asleep, then settled himself upon the sofa opposite. But now that he’d dozed off, Jeonghan had sneakily crept out.

Unsurprisingly, Seungcheol found the balcony door open, accompanied by an ethereal-looking long-haired figure leaning against the railing. The assassin grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before noiselessly joining him.

Jeonghan didn’t look up as Seungcheol propped himself next to him. Seungcheol offered the packet to Jeonghan who gingerly took one between his fingertips and let the other man light it for him. They both stood there, wordless, gazing down at the sleeping city. Cool gusts of wind teased their way through Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s hair, tugging at their clothes and dissolving exhalations of nicotine. 

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ Seungcheol asked.

Jeonghan shook his head. ‘You?’

‘Some asshole left the door open.’

The other boy smiled. ‘Sorry.’

Seungcheol glanced across at him. In the dim light of the moon, Jeonghan looked as if he were glowing; it made the assassin’s heart rate, hopelessly, like a school girl with a crush. 

Seungcheol blinked quickly as if trying to shake it out. He asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

The other boy simple shifted his gaze towards the moon and chewed on his own tongue- Seungcheol could see and sense him debating whether or not to spill.

‘I’m just...’ He hesitated. ‘I have to go back to my flat tomorrow, right? I mean, I need to go to work and-’

‘I wouldn’t let you go back there even if you wanted to. It’s still dangerous. Until I’ve tracked down that bastard and put a bullet through his skull, you’re not safe to set foot in that flat, okay?’

Jeonghan stuck out his lower lip. ‘But my clothes- all my stuff is in there.’

‘I’ll pick your stuff up sometime soon. You can wear my clothes in the meanwhile.’ He studied the other boy’s face and found his own brows furrowing. He angled his body towards him. ‘But I know that’s the reason you’re off. Just tell me, okay? Whatever you need to say, I’ll listen.’

The boy’s eyes began to brim with liquid. Seungcheol could see tears sit as beads upon his eye-lashes. The sight of seemed to stab at his stomach and wrench and twist his insides. 

‘It’s… it’s so pathetic,’ he bleated. ‘I don’t want to burden you with something so insignificant. It’s not fair.’

‘Jeonghan, you’re not a burden. Don’t ever think that. Please. I’m listening.’

‘A-alright.’ He shakily breathed in and discharged the woeful weight binding his heart to his stom-ach. ‘Ages ago, I was lonely as a child. Really lonely. I was the feminine boy with long hair- a failure. I didn’t fit anywhere. I was wrong.’ 

He sniffed. 

‘When I was twelve a boy transferred to my class, all the way from America. For the first time in my life, someone treated me like I was normal. He ended my suffering. He made me want to love my-self. So I loved him.

‘We became best friends. I became attached. I couldn’t go for a single day without seeing his face or feeling his presence. We were always together. People made up rumours that we were dating. One night we got drunk on vodka I found in my dad’s garage and I ended up confessing. Before I knew it he became my boyfriend. We loved each other. And when we were twenty, he asked me to marry him.’ His lips curled into a sad smile. ‘I said yes.’ 

Jeonghan looked down at his cigarette with an expression that didn’t look hurt, but purely numbed. ‘Less than six months later he called it off. He told me it wasn’t working. He said he was going to move back to America and start over. He told me to forget about him, because he’d do the same.’ 

Tears slid down his illuminated cheeks. Seungcheol wanted to do nothing more than hold him tight- he couldn’t bear to see him hurting like this. 

‘He told me not to cry over it. He actually said that. After breaking my heart and selling our apart-ment and taking my engagement ring and ruining my entire life, he actually told me not to cry. Can you believe it?’ He gave a sob. ‘He never loved me. That’s what he said. He never loved me, so I lived a lie, and I couldn’t love myself, and I can’t. I’m ruined. I can’t live like this. I can’t, Seungcheol-’

He was interrupted by the assassin's arms being wrapped around his body, head resting upon his shoulder, nuzzled into his neck. He engulfed Jeonghan in devotion and warmth and fervor; Seungcheol felt as if he was holding his entire world, everything that was precious to him, every-thing he cherished- even though it seemed as if he’d only just met the boy. He didn’t care. It felt so right. 

Although he never expected to feel Seungcheol’s embrace at that time, Jeonghan most definitely anticipated a moment like this; he felt as if he were melting into his arms, but at the same time, being held back together- piece by piece, fragment by fragment, tear by tear. Any thoughts of Jisoo vanished. 

He thought that Seungcheol’s grasp would ignite a warmth in his chest, a feeling of belonging- but it was so much more. He felt complete. He felt cherished. With Seungcheol’s face against his neck, his arms knotted around his waist and his back pressed into his chest, he felt more complete than he ever had done before. This was meant to be. It felt so right.

And this was only a hug.

Seungcheol was the first to speak. His breath brushed against Jeonghan’s skin. ‘He was such an asshole for not cherishing you. He was such an asshole for not giving you the love you deserve. You deserve all the love in the world.’

The other boy sobbed again. ‘You don’t know me, Seungcheol,’ he said. ‘Don’t say that. You can’t say that.’

‘I can. I don’t know the ‘you’ you were, and I don’t care, because I know the ‘you’ you are now, and I’m most definitely mad about him.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I met you only recently, but ever since I saw you, I could see that you’d been aching, and you still are, and I can’t bear it. I can’t bear to see you like this. I want to change it.’

‘H-how?’ 

Seungcheol opened his mouth to speak, but Jeonghan cut him off.

‘No. Tell me why you’re being so nice to me. Tell me why you’re giving me what I don’t deserve. Tell me why you’re mad over a suicidal maniac you just met. Tell me why you’re willing to do all that, and don’t feed me mushy lies, I beg of you, because I’m so sick of everyone being so fake.’

The assassin didn’t seem to reply. He knew Jeonghan wouldn’t believe whatever he said. He knew Jeonghan would back-hand any affection given to him because of the walls built around his heinously ruptured heart. He couldn’t tell Jeonghan anything. He knew he wouldn’t listen.

Instead, he planted his lips against the skin peering through the boy’s hair, and he fixed them there, for what seemed like an eternity. Jeonghan was so stunned that his breath caught in his throat- thoughts spiralling, head whirling, heart racing. His entire body screamed. 

‘Let me just remind you of one thing, asshole,’ the older male breathed into his skin, ‘-you were the one who kissed me first.’ He unattached his arms and drew away. ‘Get some sleep, and shut the damn door.’

Then, Seungcheol disappeared back inside, leaving Jeonghan gripping to the rail to stop himself from passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was short and felt as if it was sloppily written i'm sorry ;-; i might edit it later ahaa


	12. The Coffee

The next morning Jeonghan awoke to an empty flat and a pile of pancakes on the counter. He yawned, dawdling over to the plate stacked with steaming food, and saw that next to it sat a note. 

**Wonwoo called and asked me to come in early this morning. Sorry. Help yourself to the pancakes. I left some clothes out if you decide to go to work. And some plasters.  
I charged your phone. Text me.  
-Asshole**

Jeonghan smiled to himself and sat down at the table, contentedly digging into the breakfast laid before him. He noticed how Seungcheol had childishly placed blueberries in the shape of a smiley face on top of the finest of his creations, yet niftily placed the charred, unsuccessful ones beneath. The thought of Seungcheol making all this caused Jeonghan’s smile to widen. 

He swung his legs beneath him whilst he pondered over last night’s spate of events. Colour rose to his cheeks. He’d exposed himself. But more importantly, Seungcheol had admitted his feelings towards the boy; he’d locked him inside his arms, pressed his lips into his neck, and made him feel as if he were the luckiest man on the entire planet. Was it even real? A dream?

 _He hasn’t said anything about it in his note,_ Jeonghan mused silently. _It sounds as if he’s forgotten all about last night. How could he forget about that? Was he insincere? Was he joking when he said it all?_

A shower, he decided, was what he needed to subdue the conflict in his head.

Once he’d finished Jeonghan dressed himself in the shirt, black cardigan and white chinos folded neatly upon the sofa. The sense of the hot steaming water and fresh clothes against his damaged skin was so refreshing; the clothes were a little ample, but he relished in the glowing feeling it gave him. 

Pulling the sleeves of the cardigan over his fingers, Jeonghan found himself smiling stupidly into his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The cardigan reminded him of its owner. He thought of the assassin’s warm touch and the way his breath had danced upon his neck last night; he suddenly felt very self-conscious, remembering all the skin-ship, and how he’d barely came within a few meters of someone else within the past few years, until he hired that asshole of an assassin.

Jeonghan twisted the hair descending towards his shoulder blades into a bun, and studied his florid face in the mirror. Taking one of the plasters laid out for him, he fixed it upon his nose, where a particularly notable patch of purple had begun to garnish the bruised skin. To his horror he realised, only after putting it on, that Seungcheol had supplied him with gaudy Hello Kitty plasters coloured roseate and bright pink.

 _Great_ , he thought bitterly. _As if people didn’t think I was feminine enough already. Thanks, Seungcheol._

He used his phone to work out the route to the office from his current location, then began his diligent trek through the forenoon-saturated streets. His gait seemed to be invigorated walk with a newfound spring or vigor. He desperately wanted to pretend that his reason for sudden glee wasn’t the man who was most probably pointing a gun at someone’s head right now. But it was- and he knew it. Even to be embraced by Seungcheol gave him a feeling that overflowed from his chest and diffused as a shade of pink to his face, and caused his heart to pulse more rapidly than before, and made his head swirl with incoherent thoughts obsessing over the colour of the man’s eyes and the curve of his lips and the collision between their skin. 

Jeonghan sighed. 

_Seungcheol_. He was all that Jeonghan wanted to occupy his mind with.

As he pulled himself into his desk at work, he felt a figure floating next to him. He peered upwards to find his boss lingering there, large hazel eyes ever so slightly diminished with cynicism, mouth tight.

‘Jeonghan,’ he said. ‘You’re actually early for the first time in four years. You’re even dressed.’ The man smirked. ‘What happened?’

 _Seungcheol happened, that’s what_. ‘Nothing, Mr Chwe. Just getting my life together, that’s all.’

‘Good for you,’ Mr Chwe said. He began to turn away, back towards his own office. The man paused and shot him an icy half-grin ‘Seeming as you’re so full of life, I’ll expect that document in by one, latest. Got it?’

Jeonghan groaned.

-

He was still furiously typing by the time everyone else had dispersed for their lunch breaks. Seeing his fellow employees so free of worry made him feel miffed, put mildly. He couldn’t take staring at the screen any longer. After heedless consideration, he found the break room and began boiling the kettle for a coffee. He craved caffeine, but was too pressed for time to pop into a local coffee shop like usual. He’d have to cope with watery instant crap instead.

Mingyu burst in. He held what Jeonghan ached for- two steaming cups of Starbucks coffee. Jeonghan’s face instantly brightened.

‘You haven’t had a drink yet, right?’ Mingyu asked. 

Jeonghan shook his head. 

‘Great. Come with me.’

He really didn’t want to. He needed to finish that document before the deadline, which loomed closer by every tick of the clock. But, on the other hand, he also needed an adrenaline rush; not doing anything suicidal was beginning to have a negative effect on him, as perverse and awry as it may sound.

Maybe, he thought whilst traipsing through the corridors, being apart from Seungcheol is giving me the same feeling as being apart from death. I crave it.

He followed Mingyu to out round the back of the office blocks. They sat upon a bench veiled by trees that were embellished with pale blossom, an area where other employees and the public walked about and ate and admired their surroundings. Mingyu handed him his coffee.

‘How did your date with Wonwoo go?’ Jeonghan asked.

Mingyu snorted. ‘It wasn’t a date. It was your fault. You ran off like that.’ He shot him a wary glance from beneath his lashes. ‘And what about you? Wonwoo was telling me about how his favourite employee was sick with a stomach bug. I didn’t dare tell him that my co-worker was ill, too. Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?’

Jeonghan ignored him- he wasn’t willing to spill about Seungcheol quite yet. ‘So you chatted with Wonwoo?’

‘You could say that,’ Mingyu grinned, completely forgetting about his own hinted accusations. ‘We did talk a bit in the cafe, after you left. He told me he needed my number so I could relay information about his attempt to sue you, but… y’know, we chat occasionally, when we have the time. Nothing too official.’

‘All thanks to me.’

‘Not quite. You almost killed him.’

‘It was a fucking graze,’ Jeonghan murmured whilst taking an angry sip from his coffee. It tasted so good to his caffeine-deprived body.

Eventually Mingyu remembered what he’d been getting at earlier. ‘Oh, yeah- tell me why you’re dressed in clothes you could never afford and were actually at work on time.’

Jeonghan hesitated before swallowing down his mouthful of hot liquid. Quick. Make an excuse.

‘I got paid,’ he said simply. ‘I thought I’d treat myself for once. It inspired me to turn my life around.’

‘Really?’ Mingyu didn’t believe him- Jeonghan could tell from the tone of his voice. ‘Why did you take a day off if you’re so intent on quitting your old depressed antics? Why is your face all knocked up? And why the fuck are you wearing a Hello Kitty plaster?’ 

Jeonghan could feel his preoccupied palms become clammy. Shit. ‘My aunt died. I went to the funeral. At the wake a shattered window flew in my face, so my cousin gave me a plaster she found in her bag.’

Mingyu considered the excuse for a few moments. Jeonghan could see him processing the information and weighing up the odds.

‘You’re lying.’ Mingyu tilted his head interrogatingly. ‘It’s something to do with Seungcheol, isn’t it?’

Jeonghan gave an uneasy laugh. ‘Don’t be stupid. We don’t even like each other.’

‘I see. So it’s a love-hate relationship?’

‘No! It’s not like that. It’s a hate-hate relationship.’

‘You’re not fooling me, Jeonghan. Tell me. What did you two do yesterday?’

Jeonghan spluttered, ‘What? You think we bunked off together?’

‘I know you did.’

‘Wh- don’t be stupid.’ He pressed his lips against the slightly soggy cardboard and tilted his head back. 

‘Whatever. You’ll have to tell the truth sometime soon, because the next time I see your lover boy, I will pounce.’

‘Keep your hands to your own boyfriend’s pants, not Seungcheol’s.’

‘Yah!’ Mingyu scowled at him and went to throw his coffee all over the boy’s shirt, but decided against it. 

After a short silence, Jeonghan felt his pocket vibrate. It was his phone. He glanced through his notifications to discover am overflowing fountain of unread messages.

**Hey lazy ass**

**Did you see the note I left out?**

**Hey asshole don’t ignore me**

**Did you eat breakfast?**

**Seriously, text me back**

**Did you see the clothes I put on the sofa? Are you going to work?**

**I bet you fell asleep in the bathroom at work again**

**Or I’m going to assume you’ve been kidnapped**

**Hey**

**I’m boredddd**

**Jeonghanniee~~~~**

**Gross I’m never calling you that again**

**ASSHOLE reply to my messages**

**:-((**

Jeonghan laughed a little. Intrigued, Mingyu peered over the boy’s shoulder. The younger male scoffed.

‘’Jeonghannie’?’

Jeonghan gave a start and hid the phone from his keen eyes. ‘Don’t look over my shoulder like that! Piss off!’

‘It’s from Seungcheol, isn’t it?’

‘What? No.’

‘I can literally see his name on the top of the screen. You’re a bloody _liar_.’

‘Okay, maybe. But don’t get any ideas.’

‘You’re dating, aren’t you?’

‘Mingyu! _Stop!_ ’ 

Mingyu pouted and returned to his coffee.

As much as Jeonghan wanted to strangle Mingyu, he also wanted to kick himself for not reading his messages sooner. Great. Seungcheol was bound to hate him now. _What if he starts turning cold on me? He has so many reasons to_. The thought of it settled in his brain like a glacier of dread.

Mingyu stood up. ‘I’m leaving now. Do you need a lift home later?’

‘I-‘ Jeonghan looked away. ‘I’m not at home at the moment.’

‘What? Why?’

‘There was a rat infestation downstairs,’ he fibbed. ‘I’m staying with a family friend. I’d appreciate the lift to h- their house, though.’

Mingyu narrowed his eyes again. ‘Alright. I’ll find you when my shift’s over.’

Jeonghan watched his co-worker walk all the way to the back door before hitting Seungcheol’s name on his screen. It rung a few times before the assassin picked up.

‘Oh, hey, asshole. Finally decided to let me know you’re alive?’

Jeonghan smirked. ‘You’re so clingy.’

‘Shut the hell up! I’m not. I just didn’t want you gallivanting around wearing my clothes. Do you have any idea how expensive they are? Huh? Do you?’

The boy ignored him. ‘Thank you for your concern, _Cheollie_. You’re too sweet.’

‘Cheollie? You’re disgusti- oh. Well, whatever. Are you coming home tonight?’

‘Why?’

‘I just found a really good recipe for spaghetti carbonara. It serves two though. And I’m not having Wonwoo eat it.’

‘…why not?’

‘He eats everything. He’s like… a starved sloth. It’s terrifying.’ Seungcheol paused. ‘Will you come?’

‘Maybe. I might do. If I feel like it.’

‘Well- you’re coming.’ Jeonghan could hear him smiling through the phone. ‘I’ll see you whenever, asshole.’

‘Bye, asshole.’

Jeonghan was still grinning to himself as he hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((maybe asshole will be our always)))  
> KMKM recently hit 100 kudos, so thank you for all those who support it, youre amazing and ily:-)) i love reading all your comments and they really make my day, so please give me your opinions and thoughts!!  
> also, KMKM is not trying to romanticize mental illness in any way. i put a more detailed note about it in the wattpad version- you should check it out if you havent already:-))  
> byee~~


	13. The Takeaway

When Jeonghan arrived home that evening, the first thing he smelt was slightly scorched pasta and singed smog that it emanated. There Seungcheol stood, at that stove, an apron wrapped round his body as he helplessly prodded at the black mass developing at the bottom of the pan.

Jeonghan came up behind him and placed a hand upon his arm. ‘So is carbonara off the menu?’

Seungcheol flinched a little but relaxed when he realised it was his momentary roommate. He gave the lump another prod and said, ‘Does a Chinese takeaway sound good to you?’

‘Perfect.’

Accepting his defeat, Seungcheol scraped his attempt at dinner into the bin and dumped the pots and pans into the sink, whilst Jeonghan, amused, rung up the takeaway company and ordered their actual, edible dinner. As he spoke to the person on the other end of the line, Jeonghan watched Seungcheol move about the kitchen. The radio was on- it spouted some sort of incoherent rap music that Jeonghan couldn’t keep up with, but which Seungcheol seemed to be perfectly capable of mimicking, even adding in casual wrist movements or bopping upon the balls of his feet between the sink and the work top. He seemed happy. Very happy. It gave Jeonghan such a pleasant feeling that he too couldn’t help but grin as he watched. In fact, he felt happy enough around him already. It just sort of happened. He couldn’t figure why.

‘When you’re done, come over here and help me,’ Seungcheol called to him once he’d put down the phone. Sighing, yet concealing his elatedness, he hopped down off the stool and joined him at the sink. A mountain of bubbles overflowed from the basin. 

Seungcheol handed him some washing up gloves. ‘Here.’

The boy pouted as he put them on and began to work his way through the dishes. In truth, he didn’t mind at all, if it meant being next to Seungcheol. But he wouldn’t let the assassin know that. Not at all.

Seungcheol watched him. ‘You missed a bit. On that pan there. No, the other one.’ He pointed. ‘There. See?’

‘It’s clean.’

‘It’s not.’

‘It is, I just cleaned it.’

‘Not very well.’

Jeonghan, in response, gave a snort, and flicked the bubbles in the sink at the male standing next to him. Foam decorated the boy’s hair and clothes and face. He froze in rage. His lips curled into a snarl as he squared up.

‘You bitch,’ he muttered. He took a handful of the bubbles and wiped it over the Jeonghan’s face. Jeonghan squealed and started laughing.

‘Hey!’ he shouted, and took another fistful, rubbing it into Seungcheol’s hair and down towards the rest of his face. Seungcheol grabbed his wrist in order to stop him. He swung him round so that Jeonghan was between him and the sink. Now that he was restrained, Seungcheol began burnishing the Jeonghan’s cheeks with two, soapy hands. Jeonghan giggled. Seungcheol did too. Jeonghan desperately attempted to push himself away from the man, trying to escape, but Seungcheol just held onto him with more force, and attacked him with more bubbles.

‘Stop!’ Jeonghan cried. ‘M-my eyes, they’re stinging-‘

Seungcheol quickly released him in horror. Realising that he was in pain, Seungcheol quickly began using his hand to wipe the foam from the other boy’s face. Jeonghan screwed his eyes shut and flapped his hands in front of his face.

‘You asshole, Seungcheol, I can’t see-‘

Seungcheol peeled his t-shirt off his head and began dabbing at the residual bubbles. Eventually, Jeonghan was able to reopen his eyes.

His heart came to a halt.

He was staring at a shirtless Seungcheol- his defined abdomen, bronze, taut, naked, only millimetres from his body. Jeonghan felt his jaw go slack. He couldn’t even speak.

‘Wait, I missed a bit,’ Seungcheol said, perfectly oblivious of the blood rushing to the other boy’s cheeks. He continued to blot the material over Jeonghan’s face. Jeonghan prayed, so hard, that the thoughts overwhelming his brain wouldn’t become anything else- like the tightness in his trousers.

He looked away.

‘Hold still,’ Seungcheol muttered. He dropped his t-shirt to the floor and used his thumb to wipe at the excess on his lips. His face became drawn with concentration, but he soon became fixated upon Jeonghan’s expression. He left his finger there, upon fractured skin of his lips, staring.

 _Shit,_ Jeonghan thought. _He’s going to kiss me. We’re actually going to kiss._

Seungcheol could feel himself leaning in. He could feel his weight shifting forwards, body pressing Jeonghan’s. His forehead skimmed the other male’s. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt Jeonghan’s warm hastening breath upon his lips. Holyshitholyshitholyshit holy shit-

They were only a moment's away from kissing. If either of them shifted forward, by even the tiniest bit, it would happen. Jeonghan could feel himself losing his composure. They were so close. It was going to happen- what he'd recently been wishing for, maybe ever since he'd first seen the assassin. Him. Seungcheol. Them.

Jeonghan couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he was going to do something drastic- something too humiliating, something too outspoken, something too… gay.

He tore himself away from Seungcheol, pushing against his chest. Dashing towards the door, he stuttered, ‘Th-the Chinese… I-I need to pick i-it up-‘ He cut himself short and didn’t even manage to catch Seungcheol’s facial expression before speedily exiting the flat.

As soon as Jeonghan slammed the door shut, he collapsed back against it, lungs heaving in and out, but to not avail. Him and Seungcheol were going to kiss. _We were actually going to kiss. I was actually going to kiss Seungcheol._

He was instantly deluged with guilt. Why did he have to run away? Why didn’t he stay? Even though he knew the answer –that was: if he allowed himself to kiss Seungcheol, he would allow himself to get carried away into something so much more- he hated himself for it. Stupid. Stupid. Everything he wanted had been handed to himself on a golden platter, in the form of Seungcheol trying to kiss him, and he’d turned it away. He’d fucking turned it away. Shit.

He screwed up.

 

-

Seungcheol watched him return less than 15 minutes later.

Jeonghan slammed the door shut behind him a violently as he had done earlier that evening. He stood there, rigid, glaring at the floor.

‘No Chinese?’ Seungcheol purred. He saw Jeonghan give a small and uncomfortable nod. Continuing, he teased, ‘Forgot the money? Forgot you don’t have a car? Forgot that you ordered a home delivery?’

Jeonghan looked up.

Seungcheol was chewing on a mouthful of chow mein, with the contents of the Chinese takeaway lying scattered about the table; he smirked as he gestured towards the seat opposite him. ‘Sit.’

In a humiliated huff, the other boy came and plonked himself down, grabbing his food and, irked, digged in. He stared at a single spot ahead of him, refusing to look at the assassin. The awkwardness was too much to contain- for him, at least. He couldn’t understand how Seungcheol could continue his smooth, ballsy act. Jeonghan hated it.

‘What have you been doing for the past 15 minutes?’ Seungcheol asked innocently. He stabbed at a piece of chicken. ‘It’s cold out there. Especially since you forgot your-‘

‘Jacket, I know.’ His eyes briefly flickered upwards. ‘I walked around the block 3 times. It was great.’

Seungcheol smirked. As Jeonghan watched his lips curve, he felt his chest tighten, and he rapidly began shovelling noodles into his mouth to swerve from anymore affiliation. 

They didn’t decide to watch any TV that night. Seungcheol piled the empty containers into the bin and started readying himself for bed by heading towards his bedroom. He paused at the doorway, turning to face a rather confused Jeonghan.

‘You’re okay on the sofa, right?’ Seungcheol asked. 

Jeonghan replied, ‘Sure.’ He bit down on his lip and gave a sigh. ‘Look, Seungcheol, I didn’t-‘

‘No, I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, I just-‘

‘I-I wasn’t uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to- I just remembered the Chinese, y-‘

‘I wasn’t going to kiss you,’ the assassin blurted bluntly. ‘I mean, if that’s what you thought I was going to do.’

Jeonghan felt an edge of numbness jab at his insides. He felt his own face sag, as if dismayed, so quickly jumped to his feet and began repositioning the cushions on the sofa for his head to lie on. ‘No. Of course not.’

‘Well- good.’

‘Yeah.’ 

Seungcheol cleared his throat. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I’d hate to. S-seeming as I’m not gay or anything like that.’

Jeonghan swallowed as realisation struck him like a blunt blow to the chest. 

This was Seungcheol’s way of subtly rejecting him- right? Seungcheol had just been playing with him all this time. Playing along with Jeonghan as if having a gay roommate was just a game- as if Jeonghan was his own entertainment who he could just wrap around his finger and ridicule. 

_To think that Seungcheol would be any different,_ he thought dejectedly- _I was so sure. I was so sure that he was sincere. I was so sure he wouldn’t lie. I was so sure he was genuine. But I was wrong._

‘Alright,’ Jeonghan said. It came out as a sort of squeak. ‘Y’know, I miss my flat. I-I might head back tomorrow.’

Seungcheol gave a short, cold laugh. ‘Because of what I just said? Really?’

Jeonghan spun round. ‘What, you think I’d be upset by that? Don’t flatter yourself. You were the one who told me you were mad for me. You said that.’

The other man came away from the doorway. He slowly began walking towards Jeonghan. His fists were clenched. ‘Flattering myself?’ He curtly narrowed his eyes. ‘Wow. You thought I was actually serious? You didn’t think I was pitying you?’

Jeonghan could feel a lump rising in the back of his throat. It felt as if he were being stabbed, again and again and again. He sounded like Jisoo. It was their last argument, all over again. He hated it. It was hell. 

‘Y-you… you almost risked your life… saving me from the loan sharks… you-‘

‘Maybe I wasn’t saving you. Maybe they were the next on my hit list. Maybe I thought it would be handy to keep you alive a little longer.’

Jeonghan walked closer. ‘What?’ His voice was low and sinister. ‘Are you… are you serious?’ He took another step. ‘All of this… because I’m some sort of toy for you to play with?’

‘Did you ever think you were anything more?’

Jeonghan’s face contorted with fury. ‘You asshole!’ he screamed. He angrily raked his hair from his face and used his hand to shove the older male. ‘You fucking asshole! You actually played with someone suicidal, someone gay, because it was fun? You actually did that? What the fuck, Seungcheol!’

Seungcheol didn’t say anything at first. He glared down at the other boy, bodies grazing, but not in a warm manner like before. His lip flickered dangerously. 

‘Punch me,’ he hissed. ‘Go on. Fucking do it. Punch me, asshole.’

Jeonghan stared at him. He scoffed.

‘Punch me!’ Seungcheol roared.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He brought his fist up to the other boy’s face, smacking him with his knuckles, square in the jaw- but Seungcheol didn’t flinch. He took it, and he didn’t stumble backwards. 

In a swift movement, Seungcheol had grabbed Jeonghan and shoved him against the nearby wall. He smashed his lips against the other boy’s and began working them against his- it didn’t take Jeonghan long to kiss back. It wasn’t a soft, fond sort of kiss. It was rough and enraged and frantic and fiery and it was every furious dispute or quarrel they’d ever shared- it was very much them. As they collapsed against each other, like some sort of allurement, binding them- they were silenced by the ardour that moved between them, that burned between their lips and escaped as angry grunts. Seungcheol’s fingers were knotted in the other boy’s hair, whilst Jeonghan’s hands grazed the skin beneath the assassin’s shirt. Energy diffused between them like electricity; warm, roused, and dynamic.

Jeonghan’s mind was foggy and chaotic. Every thought in his brain yelled the man’s name, whilst his heart raced ludicrously, and the chest that surrounded it flittered in and out in hysteric, un-rhythmic heaves. He had to stop. 

With his remaining strength, Jeonghan took Seungcheol’s face in his hands and drove it away from his own. He could feel the heat in Seungcheol’s cheeks sit as sweat upon Jeonghan’s fingertips.

‘Shit, Seungcheol,’ he growled. He tried to catch his breath- to no avail. He panted, ‘You can’t do this to me.’ He fiercely shoved the boy off of him and stood up.

He grabbed his phone and his dignity before reconfronting the male that was leaning against the wall as a hot, disgruntled mess. ‘I’m going home,’ Jeonghan said. His voice was low. He couldn’t look Seungcheol in the eye. ‘Don’t even think about speaking to me or coming near me ever again, asshole. I hate you.’


	14. The Nightclub

Mingyu screamed the next morning when he opened his car door to discover an unconscious Jeonghan conked out upon the back seat.

‘What the fuck, Jeonghan!’ he yelled. He threw his car keys at the boy, causing his unwelcome guest to lash out with his foot. He groaned in protest and rolled over, away from whoever was shouting at him. 

‘How the hell did you get in here?’ Mingyu demanded. 

‘Sh,’ Jeonghan muttered, voice mumbled and dripping with drowsiness. ‘I’m trying to sleep.’

‘Not in my car you’re not! Get out!’

Jeonghan didn’t move. He didn’t even open his eyes.

Mingyu sighed and leaned against the doorframe. ‘Did you get kicked out?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Are you depressed again?’

‘I said I don’t want to talk about it.’ He opened an eye, squinting at Mingyu, then closed it again. ‘Now leave me alone to die, thank you very much.’

‘Tough shit. I’m already late for work. So are you. Straighten up and put a seatbelt on. I’m not having you jump out the car off a bridge of something.’

Jeonghan groaned again. ‘I’m not going.’

‘You really are depressed, aren’t you?’ Mingyu clambered in and shut the door behind him, starting up the engine. ‘I’m not having Hansol interrogate me on your whereabouts again. Today’s going to be a good day.’

Jeonghan was thrown into the front two seats as Mingyu rather deliberately slammed the car forwards. He hollered at him, but didn’t have the energy to punch him, as much as he wanted to. Reluctantly, Jeonghan pulled himself upright.

‘Seriously though,’ Mingyu continued. ‘How did you get in?’

Jeonghan mumbled, ‘You once told me you always keep your car unlocked because you broke the lock button.’

‘Jeez- you make me sound like such a clutz.’ He changed gear. Jeonghan launched forward involuntarily. 

They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride in. Even as they disembarked at the tall office building they shared, Jeonghan wasn’t in the mood to mutter a ‘thank you’ or even hold the door open for his co-worker; Mr Chwe caught sight of them storming in, Mingyu looking rushed and slightly annoyed, with Jeonghan trailing behind looking like a morose zombie. He didn’t dare counter either of them.

That day was hell for Jeonghan. Every day from then on was. He was so sore- every piece of him   
was aching simply because of the conversation he’d had with Seungcheol the night before. Why did Seungcheol have to be so blunt with Jeonghan? Why did Seungcheol have to rip him apart like that? Why did Seungcheol lie? 

The hours dragged by mercilessly. Jeonghan had barely slept at all the night before. He’d known he couldn’t have gone back to the flat -a dead body would’ve been there to welcome him- and he didn’t have any friends who would willingly let him sofa surf; even Mingyu got mad at him for sleeping in his car. A bruise was starting to develop from where he’d lovingly thrown is keys at the sleeping boy.

Jeonghan fell asleep at his desk and ended up dozing past the end of his shift. He was shaken awake by Mr Chwe, who rather unsympathetically reminded him of the time and informed him that Mingyu had already left, if he was expecting a lift home like usual.

‘He told me to tell you that he has a date tonight- with someone called One Ooh, or something.’ He narrowed his eyes and recited: ‘Mingyu said, “if you dare try sleeping on my back seat again, I’ll keep you alive for as long as possible”. Whatever that means.’ He turned back towards his office, looking round suggestively at the vacant desks and the reddening skies beyond the windows. ‘Go home. It’s late.’

He didn’t want to. Not at all. Jeonghan took as long as possible trying to recollect himself and begin the lengthy walk towards wherever the hell he was going. He didn’t know where he was headed. He just knew he couldn’t go anywhere near Seungcheol. 

Jeonghan decided that the only place he could go was his own flat. He was incredibly apprehensive as he opened the door, expecting to find a dead body grinning back at him; instead, it was empty, with a shattered coffee table and pools of blood dousing the floor and the walls and the furniture. It wasn’t welcoming, but it definitely wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. Someone must’ve taken the body of one of the loan sharks in his absence. He was glad- although, now, he felt lonely.

Every day was the same. He’d arrive late for work, get glared at by Mr Chwe, sleep in the bathroom whenever he could, and end up arriving home late with fists wielding bottles of vodka. He didn’t talk and he didn’t eat- he didn’t need anything, because he was replete with sadness, despite the ironic feeling of utter emptiness that it gave him. Jeonghan couldn’t understand how a single sentence could completely dismantle his high spirits and restore him to his usual, depressed self. It was like what happened with Jisoo. He was so insanely happy, then, all of a sudden, just one argument turned his entire world upside down. But at least him and Jisoo had been something -almost married, for hell’s sake- but, with Seungcheol, nothing had even really happened between them. Sure, a kiss in a hospital bathroom, a back hug, a neck kiss, a steamy make-out session; but nothing else. No one had ever confessed. No one had ever got emotionally attached.

Except from him, so it seemed.

As he lay there, thoughts sodden in a haze of alcohol, he found himself regretting ever hiring that assassin. He should’ve done it himself. He should’ve thrown himself off a building as soon as Jisoo rejected him- to save him the bother of living all these years in pain and meeting the assassin that would screw him over just like before.

It was all the same. Seungcheol was just the same as everyone else. He’d pretend to be there, then he’d ridicule him and walk away. 

Everyone leaves, Jeonghan thought. Even Seungcheol.

He could feel it creeping up on him. That gnawing feeling. The gnawing feeling of nothingness, that meant Jeonghan didn’t care about anything, that everything would just keep getting worse- that there was nothing else he could do except die. 

Drink more. Keep drinking, he told himself. Do it. Let it kill you. Free yourself of this world.

He wanted to. He wanted to kill himself so badly. He wanted to drink and drink and drink until it poisoned him and he lay there drowning in his both own sorrow and kidney failure, or become so intoxicated that he walked into the path of a car with no consideration and consequently ended up as a corpse sprawled against the windscreen. He just didn’t care. He didn’t know what to do and he didn’t know how to cope but all he knew is that he wanted to die.

It was such a familiar feeling. It was a part of him now. It was his only companion, and it devoured him.

-

It was Mingyu who called him one night and told Jeonghan that he was going to obey him whether he liked it or not.

‘You’re coming drinking with us,’ he instructed. ‘And I’m going to pick you up in half an hour.’

Jeonghan had been lying on the floor staring at a broken light fixture when he’d accepted the call. He was in no fit state to go out- he wore clothes he hadn’t washed in weeks, his body hadn’t been near a shower in his recent memory, and his face truly looked as if he were a dead man walking. He couldn’t even imagine himself standing upright. Nevermind joining Mingyu for one of his all-nighters.

When Jeonghan didn’t respond, Mingyu said, ‘Come on. It’s a Saturday. You don’t have to go to work tomorrow. Just treat yourself.’

‘I don’t deserve it,’ Jeonghan grumbled back. ‘Leave me alone.’

‘I will drag you out of that stupid flat by your hair if I have to,’ he said. ‘Now get ready.’

Surely enough, Mingyu did have to drag Jeonghan by his hair- except, when he saw the sight of him, he forced him through the shower and managed to pick out his freshest looking outfit (which was by no means fresh at all) and masked the strong odour of alcohol and hopelessness in his only remaining bottle of aftershave. He hauled the boy down to his car once he’d deemed him socially acceptable, and drove him all the way into the town.

It was already dark by the time they were walking towards the bar. Mingyu walked ahead of Jeonghan, who dragged his heels to prove his reluctance.

‘You’ve got to pretend to be happy, at least,’ the younger one lectured. ‘There will be people. Lots of them. Women. Men. And alcohol.’

Jeonghan sneered. ‘Stop talking to me as if I’m a child. I don’t even care what’s at your stupid club.’

Mingyu ignored him and said, ‘Wonwoo will be there. You know Wonwoo?’

‘Your boyfriend.’

‘H-he’s not…’ Mingyu stopped. ‘We’re just dating, alright?’

‘Have you been inside each other’s pants yet?’

‘Jeonghan!’ Mingyu chastised, and spun round to flash him a glare. 

He didn’t say no, Jeonghan thought smugly.

Wonwoo was already sat down at a table by the time Mingyu and Jeonghan came to join him. He was wearing more eyeliner than usual, dressed informally for the first time since Jeonghan had met him. Jeonghan could feel Mingyu’s mood instantly enlighten as soon as he seated himself next to Seungcheol’s boss- he was so obviously in love. Jeonghan wanted to feel happy for him. But jealousy struck him more than anything.

After quick greetings, Wonwoo and Mingyu went off to buy drinks, with Jeonghan staying at the table, insistent that he didn’t want anything. He’d drunk enough for a lifetime, condensed within those past few weeks. Unusually, he didn’t want more alcohol. He wanted to remain as sober as possible in order to experience the suffering that was being clear-headed. He thought he deserved it.

He stared into space. People swarmed on the dance floor and at tables and such all around, and he could see a lap dancer begin to give him the eye from across the room. He quickly shoved his head into his hands and prayed that he wouldn’t end up with a girl’s ass in his face by the time the others came back.

He felt someone give a sigh as they sat them self next to him.

‘Jeonghan, isn’t it?’

He looked round, and there sat the man who had forced that chicken and sweetcorn soup down him as they’d sat in Seungcheol’s flat. Junhui. The man smirked as he saw annoyance pour over Jeonghan’s face, and triumphantly crossed one leg over the other. 

‘Thought so.’ He tilted his head. ‘You don’t mind if I sit here, right?’

Jeonghan returned to staring at the table. ‘Couldn’t care less.’

‘Yikes.’ He scoffed. ‘You share your boyfriend’s mood. He’s been a real grumpy bitch recently. Even more emo than Wonwoo. It’s getting kinda annoying.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t talked to him in like a month.’

Junhui flickered an eyebrow upwards. ‘Maybe that’s why he’s like that, then. He must feel really angsty about your break up.’

‘We weren’t together.’

‘You’re fooling no one, Jeonghan- really. We made bets on when Seungcheol was actually going to tell us you two were dating.’ 

‘We?’

Junhui glanced over Jeonghan’s shoulder towards the bar. Wonwoo had his arm slipped round Mingyu’s waist as he paid for drinks.

‘Aw. Look at them,’ Junhui cooed. ‘You and Seungcheol should do more of that stuff. PDA, is it called?’

‘Bloody hell, Junhui, we’re not together. So cut it out.’ He placed his fist upon the table- with force. ‘Nothing ever happened between us. And he doesn’t even like boys.’

At that remark, Junhui burst out laughing.

‘You’re serious? You actually think he’s straight?’ He clutched his stomach as he continued to chortle. ‘Oh, my. Did you never even see the way he was looking at you?’

Jeonghan frowned. ‘What?’

‘He was besotted, you idiot. Anyone could tell.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Who told you he was straight?’

‘He did.’

‘When?’

‘We were washing up.’

‘And he just said it? Like, just out the blue?’

Jeognhan nodded, refusing to look at Junhui.

‘Definitely gay,’ Junhui hummed. He chuckled a little, which annoyed the hell out of Jeonghan. He already felt like shit. And now Junhui had turned up, hell-bent on tormenting him.

‘Don’t you need to go get a drink or something?’ Jeonghan snapped. ‘Tequila? Bleach, maybe?’

The man smirked. ‘Well I was going to ask you the same thing. You look a little too sober.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I’ll buy you something. If you beg for it, that is.’

‘I don’t want anything.’

‘Nothing?’ Junhui snorted in disbelief. ‘You sure about that?’

‘Alcohol is the last thing I need right now, trust me. Just leave me to rot here.’

Junhui rolled his eyes before going off to find Wonwoo and Mingyu, leaving Jeonghan to his own devices. He could still sense himself being eyed by some of the lesser-dressed strippers in the room, so, to avoid any further human contact, he folded his arms upon the table, burrowed his head into the unwashed cotton of his shirt, and closed his eyes.

Junhui returned fifteen minutes later. At least- Jeonghan heard someone approach the table, and he felt that someone brush thighs as they sat down, and he heard them give an exasperated sigh at, presumably, the sight of a half-asleep mess.

‘Really, asshole?’

Jeonghan’s eyes fluttered open, eyes suddenly moistened. He was facing away from the voice, but he knew exactly who it was. He knew that whiff aftershave and that insult.

Seungcheol.

‘I know you’re awake,’ the assassin said. ‘And drunk.’

‘I’m not drunk,’ Jeonghan insisted through gritted teeth. ‘Leave me alone.’

‘Yikes. Anyone would think you’re a suicidal loner who just got dumped.’

Jeonghan lifted his head from the table and craned his neck to shoot Seungcheol an icy glare, but as soon as his blurred eyes settled upon the man he’d been craving for these past weeks-the man who’d made him ache, who’d made him want to die-and his chest both seemed to grow warm and heavy at the same time. Seungcheol’s face fell a little slack as his eyes focused upon the younger boy, and Jeonghan saw it. Just what was Seungcheol thinking?

‘Why are you even here?’ Jeonghan demanded. 

‘In case you haven’t realised, my boss and my coworkers are having a night out. What about you?’

He huffed. ‘I was dragged here.’

‘Right.’ Seungcheol tilted his head. ‘So neither of us actually need to talk to each other, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Right. Good.’

Jeonghan saw him get up and watched as he went to join the others. His stomach ached with longing. He wasn’t sure what for.

He didn’t really want to stay here. Not whilst seeing Seungcheol roam around everyone else. He felt his chest prickle with anger whilst seeing the way he brushed against other people, letting his eyes pour over them, touching their skin and looking at them in a way Jeonghan thought he knew well. It actually made him feel rather nauseous. He pushed himself out of his seat, unsteadily, head and stomach swimming, shoved his way through the large mass of drunkards and towards a door.

After ascending a short staircase, Jeonghan found himself on some sort of rooftop. Barely anyone loitered round up there- he was alone, and he liked it. The cold air seemed to clear his head, if only for a few moments, and gave him the chance to take a few deep breaths.

He hadn’t been on a rooftop in a long time. The last time he’d been situated like this, he was about to jump off. Although he wasn’t exactly un-keen on the idea of it, Jeonghan decided that, no, it wouldn’t be a good time to kill himself. Seungcheol would probably be pretty mad to discover his body lying on the damp concrete of the car park. He imagined him yelling, ‘Hey, asshole, did you really have to dirty the tarmac like that? Don’t you have any respect?’

The thought of it actually made him smile a little.

Jeonghan stayed up there for an hour- just thinking, about anything, everything, but mostly Seungcheol. He didn’t want to, but all he could picture was everything that had happened in his flat and the image of Seungcheol downstairs, probably with his tongue down someone’s throat by now. Jeonghan knew Seungcheol was the type to pick up multiple girlfriends in one night at a place like this. He knew it was inevitable, and that, if he headed downstairs, he’d want to head straight back up here and fling himself off. It was pathetic, and he loathed himself for it.

At some point, he felt his phone vibrate. To his upmost horror, Seungcheol’s name shouted at him from the screen.

He answered it reluctantly. 

‘Hello? Jeonghan?’

The boy frowned. It was Junhui’s voice.

‘What?’ 

‘I dunno where you are, but Seungcheol is currently plastered. Like, beyond drunk.’ There was muffled yelling on the other end. ‘Just- get here. Please.’

Then he hung up.

When Jeonghan found Junhui, Seungcheol had his arm around his shoulder- not necessarily in a fond way, but as structural support. He was speaking loudly- he waved his arms and swayed side to side with every word, and it was very clear that he was nowhere near sober, in the slightest.

When the assassin set his eyes upon Jeonghan, he shouted, ‘Yah! It’s him!’

Seungcheol broke away from Junhui and started marching his way over. But after only one step forwards, he lost his balance, and toppled towards Jeonghan.

He caught him with his arms and, weakly, almost collapsed too. Junhui quickly helped him reposition the man into an upright state.

Seungcheol’s breath smelt of some sort of ridiculously strong drink. He slurred, ‘Hey, asshole, you’re a dick.’

‘Thank you,’ Jeonghan muttered. ‘You’re even more of a dick, you know that?’

‘Yah!’ he yelled- so loudly that Jeonghan leaned away, wincing.

Junhui slipped Seungcheol’s arm around Jeonghan. ‘You’ll have to take him home. He’s a danger to society.’

‘Oh, shut up, June,' Seungcheol driveled. He laughed obnoxiously. 'Or is it July?’

Jeonghan and Junhui exchanged an unimpressed glance.

‘That’s not even funny,’ Jeonghan growled.

‘You!’ Seungcheol yelled. ‘Shut up! You make me really, really angry!’

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. ‘We’re leaving. Come on.’

He began to drag him away. Seungcheol did attempt to walk, but most of his weight was forced upon Jeonghan. They hobbled towards the door. Seungcheol mumbled drunk things to himself, occasionally raising his voice and earning looks from the strangers around them.

They’d almost reached the door when one of the lap dancers appeared and saw the fact that Seungcheol was vulnerable. Ignoring Jeonghan, she stepped in front of the assassin and brought a finger to his chest, trailing it downwards, in-between the gaps in his shirt. She gave him a smirk.

‘Where are you going in such a rush?’ she wooed. 

Jeonghan threw the woman a venomous look and tugged Seungcheol’s body closer to his. ‘Fuck off.’

‘Jeonghan!’ Seungcheol gasped. ‘Don’t be so mean!’

‘You’re vulnerable, and she wants your money,’ the boy retorted stiffly. ‘We’re leaving.’

Seungcheol opened his mouth to protest but, after Jeonghan bitterly carved past the dancer, he decided to seal his mouth shut with a pout. 

He vaguely recognised Seungcheol’s car in the car park from when he’d been the one drunk off his head sitting in the passenger seat. They’d switched roles. Jeonghan strapped a now barely conscious Seungcheol next to him before, rather terrified, driving him to his flat.

Seungcheol was awake enough to enter in the passcode to his room, surprisingly, but once he was inside, he fell to the floor, bringing Jeonghan down with him. Jeonghan yelled at him, and after Seungcheol refused to move from his position sprawled on the laminate floor, he took his foot and dragged him towards his bedroom. With the little strength he had left, Jeonghan hauled his body onto the bed and, after seeing Seungcheol give a little sigh of satisfaction, turned to leave.

But there was a thought that pulled him back. It was that he himself had fantasized about choking to death on his own alcohol-induced vomit- and how it was just as likely to happen to Seungcheol as it was to him.

He looked back down at the sleeping Seungcheol. His chest ached again. He couldn’t leave him. He could die. Then he’d be gone for good- and that was something Jeonghan would never, ever be able to get over.

He couldn’t leave him like this even if he wanted to.

Jeonghan came and stood next to him. Seungcheol did look beautiful when he slept, he realised. His shirt had peeled itself open a little, revealing a steadily rising and falling chest, pale and slightly bedewed with sweat. His hair was tousled from perspiration and lay in all directions upon the pillow- and, with his lips open and full and his jawline sharp and defined. 

Jeonghan had to admit- Seungcheol looked hot.

He jumped slightly as he felt a sudden yet faint grip upon his fingers. His hand was enveloped in Seungcheol’s. Jeonghan felt his heart begin to quicken. Maybe he’s still asleep, Jeonghan thought. Maybe he doesn’t realise what he’s doing-

‘Don’t just stand there,’ Seungcheol murmured. His eyes were open a little. He tugged upon Jeonghan’s fingers, beckoning him closer.

He tugged again, but, this time, managed to actually get a hold of the rest of his body and pull him down onto the bed next to him. 

Jeonghan felt as if he was going to go die, right there and then. He could practically taste the alcohol on Seungcheol’s tongue as his face lay merely inches from his own, and he watched, stunned, as Seungcheol’s eyelids fluttered shut again. A small smile developed upon his face. 

‘Let’s stay like this,’ the assassin said softly, ‘for a very long time.’

‘You’re drunk.’

‘I know. But isn’t this nice?’

‘Seungcheol, stop it, you idiot. You’re not even gay. Just stop it-‘

‘You’re the idiot if you think I’m straight.’ Seungcheol chuckled lazily. ‘Do you really-‘

‘You said it for yourself!’ he hissed. He wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t. ‘You told me you were straight, you literally said-‘

‘I’m gay, Jeonghan.’

His eyes opened, just in time to take in Jeonghan’s expression of astonishment. Relishing in the sudden atmosphere between them, Seungcheol angled his head closer to the other boy’s and looked at him through his lashes. 

‘But…’ Jeonghan shook his head. He wanted to cry, and he wasn’t sure of the reason. He swallowed, then whimpered: ‘P-prove it.’

In reply, Seungcheol stretched forwards and crashed his lips into the other boy’s. It was short, but it was meaningful.

He withdrew with a smile.

‘I’m in love with you, asshole.’

Jeonghan believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLYYYY  
> ughgh i havent proof read this and i was so tired when i wrote this ;-; but aaa im so glad one of them finally plucked up the courage to say it lmao. this story is finally getting somewhere woww  
> thank you for all your support again!! any suggestions etc would be massively appreciated:-))


	15. The Carbonara

Jeonghan was woken up the next morning by the sound of Seungcheol emptying the contents of his stomach through his mouth- fortunately down the toilet.

He groaned, sitting up in bed and dragging a hand through his hair. He checked Seungcheol’s bedside clock before yawning, and then went and found the assassin.

As Jeonghan walked in, he saw Seungcheol lying face-down on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.   
Seungcheol groaned. ‘I’m never drinking again.’

‘I’m not too sure about that.’

Jeonghan came and sat down next to him. They were still fully clothed (surprisingly), and Jeonghan could smell the remainders of the after shave Mingyu had doused him in last night.

‘I’ll grab you some Advil in a sec,’ he said mercifully. ‘Do you feel like eating anything?’

Seungcheol shook his head.

‘Are you sure?’

The assassin looked up at Jeonghan and weakly narrowed his eyes. ‘Jeonghan, are you really going to pretend that nothing last night actually happened?’

‘No,’ he said simply. ‘I remember every word you said, and I’ll never forget. But right now, you need one hell of a hangover cure more than you need me.’

Seungcheol smiled. ‘I disagree.’

Rising to his feet, Jeonghan cold-shouldered him and said, ‘A glass of water and some Advil coming right up.’

Once Seungcheol had finally come round at roughly late afternoon, Jeonghan had a serving worth of carbonara- mocking, Seungcheol realised, his own attempt at the dish a few months prior. Jeonghan came and sat next to the assassin in bed, offering him a tray with the pasta on, accompanied by garlic bread, orange juice and a portion of icecream. He seemed proud of his work as he watched Seungcheol chew through it as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Jeonghan decided to ask the most difficult questions whilst the other male was most defenceless- with a mouthful of carbonara. 

‘How have the weeks been treating you?’ he asked sweetly.

Seungcheol stopped chomping and looked across at him as if he’d just been insulted. ‘Well what about you?’

‘I asked you first.’

The assassin swallowed and let his lip flicker unkindly. ‘I hated every second. You?’

‘Oh, I was fine. Never been greater.’

‘You better be lying, you-’

‘Of course I am,’ Jeonghan fired back. ‘I loathed it. I loathed you and I loathed myself and I loathed life.’

Seungcheol considered his words. ‘And do you still loathe me?’

‘Of course.’

The assassin stared down at his bowl. He quickly began eating again, furiously.

‘But I suppose I love you too,’ Jeonghan chirped. ‘Maybe. Just a little bit.’

Seungcheol made a sudden choking sound and began coughing, rather violently. He hacked and hacked at whatever was stuck in his throat, and, with a sudden exclamation of ‘shit’ upon realising he was actually suffocating, Jeonghan began to slap his back.

Eventually whatever had been lodged in his throat became unstuck, and Seungcheol could breathe again. 

‘You could’ve warned me,’ he protested. ‘I almost died.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘But I could have.’

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. ‘All I did was confess. You acted as if I told you I was pregnant.’

‘But it’s shocking.’

‘Why?’

‘I dunno. You always seemed to reject me.’

‘That’s because I thought you were straight.’

‘Yeah- I lied. Quite a lot.’ Seungcheol halted and took the tray off his lap, placing it down on the floor. With a small smile on his lips, he scooted down beneath the covers and lay there. 

‘Come on,’ he said. 

‘What?’

‘I’m suddenly incredibly hungover again and need you to cuddle me like you did last night.’

Jeonghan laughed. ‘It wasn’t exactly cuddling, Seungcheol.’

‘Well all the more reason to cuddle me now, then.’

Jeonghan couldn’t help but grin as he snuggled down next to the assassin, feeling Seungcheol wrap his arms around his body and engulfing him in the scent of carbonara and cotton. Jeonghan loved it. He loved feeling loved. He loved feeling as if there was no other place he was safer- no other place he’d feel happier. He’d missed it so much. He never wanted to experience anything except this feeling, because it was all he needed. Seungcheol was all he needed.

Seungcheol pressed his lips against Jeonghan’s forehead. ‘Just for your information, this is completely and utterly non-homosexual, and I hate you a lot, and you’re a massive asshole.’

‘That’s really cute, garlic-breath. Thanks.’ He paused. ‘And for your information, you did look pretty hot last night, even if you were a drunk mess. But no homo.’

‘Especially because I was a drunk mess,’ Seungcheol corrected, then grinned. ‘Y’know, I look even hotter when I’m naked.’

‘Just what are you implying, exactly?’

He hummed innocently. ‘Nothing in particular.’

‘Oh, wow, you’re really gay.’

‘No homo.’

‘All the homo.’

‘Please. I’ve had to refrain for so long.’

‘Refrain from what? Shoving me up against a wall and making out with me really, really angrily? Because you failed at that.’

Seungcheol gave Jeonghan a dark smirk and trailed a finger down his chest. ‘Y’know, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. And we have a bed this time.’

Jeonghan rolled over on top of him.

‘Deal.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have nothing to say, except:
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	16. The Farewell

The next morning, Jeonghan sat in the passenger seat of Seungcheol’s car, dressed in the latter’s clothes, and still struggling clumsily with the tie hanging loose around his neck. Seungcheol saw him from the corner of his eye. He smirked.

‘Can’t you even dress yourself?’ He gave a wide grin and turned back to the road. ‘Is it really that hard to keep your clothes on around me?’

Jeonghan huffed. ‘Don’t pretend like you’re not the horny one who tried to get laid in the first place.’

‘Hey! I was drunk.’

‘You were perfectly sober.’

‘Maybe. But still.’ Jeonghan watched as he grimaced a little. ‘Now I’ve got to explain to Wonwoo why I had to get dragged from the club unconscious. This will be fun.’

‘You’ll be fine. Besides, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t all to sober either.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so. The way he ate Mingyu’s tongue seemed pretty drunk to me.’

‘Was it bad?’

‘Well… it was passionate, I’d say.’

‘And how did Mingyu react?’

‘He was acting drunker than he actually was, just so he could go along with it.’ Jeonghan paused as he undid his tie and promptly gave up all attempts at looking presentable. ‘In a weird way, it was cute. They’re both as awkward as each other.’

‘I ship it,’ Seungcheol said. Then he hesitated. ‘I don’t remember anything that happened on Saturday. We didn’t…we didn’t do anything in public, right?’

‘Except from you pinning me against a table and giving me a lap dance? No. And I’m pretty sure Wonwoo saw, too.’

Abhorrence swept across Seungcheol’s features as he dramatically snapped his head towards the passenger, jaw dropping. Unfortunately, his hands followed his head, and the car veered right towards the central reservation. Jeonghan squealed.

‘You dick,’ Seungcheol muttered as he regained control of the car. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘Well,’ the other boy said impishly, ‘you could always ask Wonwoo.’

‘Ya!’ he shouted. ‘I could get fired! Do you realise that?’

Jeonghan didn’t reply. He just smirked. 

By the time they reached Jeonghan’s office block, Seungcheol had managed to regain his composure, and coolly parked up near the doors. Jeonghan unstrapped and jumped out on cue.

‘I’ll see you later,’ he called.

Seungcheol was already round his side of the car. He embedded one hand in the fabric of Jeonghan’s shirt and pressed the other against the cool metal. His body inclined towards the other boy.

‘You can’t go in like that,’ Seungcheol said. ‘You’re tie’s a mess.’

Jeonghan frowned. ‘Shut up. I can’t do it.’

The assassin gave him his signature smile and began looping the fabric of his tie round itself. He bit down on his lip with concentration as his fingers worked, and occasionally tugged Jeonghan a little closer to him. Seungcheol’s fingers skimmed the exposed skin of Jeonghan’s neck, and he seemed satisfied to see colour dust Jeonghan’s cheeks as the boy’s eyes darted away, trailing along the cobalts and roseates of the young morning sunrise. 

‘There,’ Seungcheol said, and bore his eyes into Jeonghan’s until the other male finally locked upon his gaze. He didn’t let go of his tie. ‘Now- do you think you might possibly be able to refrain from killing yourself today?’

‘I’ll try. But give me a good reason not to.’

‘Well then,’ Seungcheol began, cracking into another grin. He lowered his voice, saying, ‘I’ll take you out for a nice meal tonight. Italian, or whatever you like. We’ll come back and we’ll marathon TV series or films whilst I play with your hair and we cuddle, and maybe we’ll eat ice cream. We’ll make out a lot and have sex or we could just star gaze and drink wine under a blanket.’ Seungcheol rested his forehead against Jeonghan’s. His breath, infused with mint and cigarettes, brushed against Jeonghan’s lips. ‘Is that a good enough reason?’

Jeonghan pretended to mull over the idea, mouth puckered. Eventually, he said, ‘Maybe.’

‘You’re so hard to please.’ Seungcheol drew his head away from the other boy’s. ‘Text me throughout the day, okay? I get lonely.’

‘I will do. But right now, I’m late. Mr Chwe will kill me if I don’t get a move on.’

‘Hey, don’t abandon me like this. You never know which of our meetings could be the last,’ Seungcheol whined. ‘Who knows when the police will track me down and put a bullet through my head?’

Jeonghan’s expression twisted in outrage. ‘Asshole! Don’t say stuff like that!’ Jeonghan half-yelled. ‘Don’t you dare!’

‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry.’ He smirked. ‘I’m the best shooter around. No one could shoot me, even if they tried.’

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. ‘Can I go now?’

‘What? You’re not going to kiss me goodbye?’

‘I’m late. My boss will-’

He was interrupted by Seungcheol smashing his lips against his own. 

It was soft at first; the pressure between their mouths was tender, feathery- but Jeonghan brought his hand up to lace his fingers through the assassin’s hair, and dragged his lip against Seungcheol’s, parting his mouth open with a relaxed sigh suffused with urgency. Jeonghan tilted his head as he tried to run his tongue against Seungcheol’s, causing his heart and stomach to flutter erratically, consumed by longing. He stiffened his fingers, snagging the assassin’s hair in a clenched fist. He wished his legs would stiffen too- he felt as if he was melting against Seungcheol, too weak to stand on his own two feet. 

Fuck. I’m so gay, he thought.

Seungcheol prized his face away from Jeonghan’s. Tormenting the male, he leered, eyes hovering over Jeonghan’s features pinkened by fervour.

‘I thought you said you’re late,’ he murmured, his voice deep and gruff. 

Jeonghan attempted to recollect himself. He blinked, trying to repel the image of him and Seungcheol last night- one that had begun to intoxicate his thoughts and deprived him of any sort of self-control. Hand against the back of Seungcheol’s head again, eyes focused on his rousing and open lips, he whispered, ‘It’s okay. Just five more minutes.’

The man gave a short harsh laugh and cruelly untwined himself from Jeonghan, reaching behind him for the car door. He ushered the boy away, clambering inside, and began buckling up.

Realising what was happening, Jeonghan bleated, ‘Wait! Please, just a few more minutes.’

‘That was just a taster of tonight,’ he said darkly. ‘Where’s the fun in doing it all now?’ 

‘Please,’ Jeonghan whined.

‘But Mingyu might see.’ He turned on the engine.

‘But I don’t care. I don’t care, just-’

‘Bye, Jeonghan,’ Seungcheol said with a smile. ‘I’ll pick you up later.’

‘Seungcheol!’

He tooted his horn as he sped away. Jeonghan was left standing in a stunned shambles- he felt breathless, ravenous, and, fiddling with the previously hassled fabric of his tie, began to make his way into the building, considerably miffed.

But he was unmistakeably overjoyed- and very, very in love.

-

‘Those ones look like a butterfly. See?’

‘What? No. They look nothing like that. It’s a saucepan.’

Seungcheol looked over at Jeonghan with a befuddled yet amused smile as they sat alongside each other upon a horded mass of pillows and sofa cushions. They were cocooned in a duvet, attention cast upwards towards the inky sky mottled with constellations. Glasses of wine stood beside them. Distantly, from the kitchen, classical music played from a stereo set, although neither of them were concentrating on its garble, but instead on feeling of their bodies touching, or the actual sensation of being curled up beneath the stars together. 

Jeonghan’s arms were wrapped around Seungcheol. He nestled his head into the man’s taut chest, eyes drifting from the stars to the intricate outlines of his body. Jeonghan’s eyes traced the shape of Seungcheol’s lips and the curve of his jaw. He thought of how much he wanted to press his lips own against them, and, subconsciously, he secured his grip around the boy’s torso. It was as if he was too scared to let go- as if Seungcheol could just disappear, just like that. It terrified him.

‘What time do you get off work tomorrow?’ Seungcheol questioned in a murmur.

‘Late,’ he replied. ‘Mr Chwe is mad at me again.’

‘Why’s that?’

Jeonghan grumbled, ‘He saw us making out in the car park. He told me I should keep my face-eating away from the office.’ He smiled slyly. ‘I know the real reason for it: he’s jealous of people in relationships. I’ve seen the way he unsubtly tries to hit on Seungkwan, from marketing. He keeps getting rejected. It’s kinda sad.’

Seungcheol laughed; and although Jeonghan didn’t find his own joke funny, he found himself grinning just seeing Seungcheol’s eyes grow slim as he chuckled. It made him feel warm. It made him feel like he was hugging his entire world.

The assassin closed his eyes. ‘Why are you staring?’

Jeonghan blushed. He rested his head back on his chest and decided to ignore Seungcheol’s question. He said, ‘Y’know- it’s funny.’

‘What is?’

‘Us.’ Jeonghan felt himself smile at the very word- us. ‘I mean, it’s ironic. I hired you as an assassin. Yet here we are.’

Seungcheol grinned goofily as he repositioned himself, so that he was facing Jeonghan, his hand draped across the other boy’s body and skimming across the thin t-shirt material covering his back. He brought Jeonghan’s body closer against his, inclining his lips towards the other boy’s. He kissed him; slowly, softly, and swiftly.

‘I love you, Jeonghan, you asshole.’

As he drew away, Jeonghan kept his eyes closed, and ran his tongue along the remanence of Seungcheol's touch against his lips, breaking into a smile. He exhaled. 

‘God damn it, Seungcheol. I paid for you to kill me, not to fall in love with me.’


	17. The Dinner Party

-4 MONTHS LATER-

It had been the most amazing 4 months of Seungcheol’s life. He was hopelessly and desperately and madly in love; and he didn’t want to change it for the world.

He never imagined anything like this. He’d never imagined Jeonghan being a part of his everyday life. He’d never imagined waking up next to such a beautiful sight every morning, or getting a rush of warmth whenever their fingers laced together, or being able to hold his entire world within his arms every night beneath the comfort of his very own sheets. It was perfect.

As the months had passed, they’d grown- emotionally, together, and harmoniously. They’d grown synchronically, into each other’s beings; they knew each other better than they knew themselves. So much so that, on that day, Seungcheol knew to tighten Jeonghan’s tie for him before walking into the venue, as he was incapable of doing it himself. They stood beneath a stone canopy supported by marble pillars, the rain outside gushing from the night skies, as Seungcheol tucked Jeonghan’s hair behind his ear tentatively. It was now a shade of dark brown- umber russets and cocoas and burnt sienna. It matched his eyes, and Seungcheol decided it was his favourite colour, long ago.

‘Nervous?’ he said softly.

‘You know the answer.’ Jeonghan sighed. ‘I’m just… worried.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re undercover. You’re on a mission. You could die, Seungcheol, but you’re so cool and care-free about it; yet here I am, scared for your fucking life.’

‘I’m flattered, babe, I am.’ He titled his head. ‘But just trust me, okay? I’ll be fine. More importantly, you’ll be fine. It’s just a low-key dinner party.’ He twirled a strand of Jeonghan’s hair around his finger. ‘Remember: Wonwoo told us to pretend that we’re rich husbands who are the co-owners of one of the companies attending. We drink fine wine like tap water and have a chalet in Switzerland that we visit on the weekends.’

‘And a dog. Don’t forget we have a pedigree golden retriever.’

‘Called?’

‘Angel.’

‘Earmuffs.’

‘No, Angel.’ 

Seungcheol opened his mouth to protest, but Jeonghan pressed his lips into his mouth and grinned. Flustered, Seungcheol rested his hands upon the other boy’s chest and drew away, unable to hide his pink cheeks.

‘You have no idea how look you good in a suit right now,’ Seungcheol protested. ‘Don’t get me started.’

‘But-‘

‘Come on, husband,’ he said, smirking at the word, and intertwined their fingers before beginning towards the door. ‘Wonwoo and Mingyu are waiting.’

‘I’m scared, Seungcheol. Can’t I just hide in the toilets?’

‘If you go along with the plan, I might marry you.’

Jeonghan snapped his mouth shut and turned a shade of crimson. He’d suddenly never been so eager to go to a dinner party in his life.

-

Once inside, Seungcheol was directed upstairs to a small, private balcony-like area overlooking the dinner party, where Wonwoo awaited him, glass of champagne in hand. As Seungcheol came and seated himself opposite him, Wonwoo was gazing down at the swelling group of party-goers below. The assassin followed his gaze to find Mingyu and Jeonghan hovering near the punch bowl, conversing over its contents. Wonwoo smiled fondly.

Seungcheol cleared his throat. 

Swiftly, Wonwoo’s cold mask fell over his features, and he curtly said, ‘I hope you’re not too distracted tonight. You’re on duty.’

Seungcheol knew he was referring to Jeonghan. He glanced sideways, warily. ‘I thought this was meant to be a party.’

‘It is, but you’re still on duty.’ Wonwoo placed his glass onto a table. ‘A certain loan company have been getting a little too big for their boots and have been attempting to assassinate those who are unable to pay up. We’ve been given instructions to abolish them.’ He titled his head. ‘However, it just so happens that one of their employees was shot in the head when on a mission. The other still lives to tell the tale, and his testimony sounds somewhat familiar.’ Wonwoo narrowed his eyes dubiously. ‘But, of course, I have no idea in hell who shot him. Do you, Mr Choi?’

Seungcheol was busted; that was for certain. How did Wonwoo even find out about the façade a few months ago? More importantly, how hadn’t Seungcheol been fired yet?

‘Anyway,’ his boss continued, ‘I invited you here today because that certain loan company are having a dinner party with potential clients. We’ve disguised ourselves as employees of those potential clients in order to fish out who exactly were killing. Got it?’

Seungcheol already partly knew the information, but nodded anyway. 

‘You’ve got to keep a low profile, okay?’ Wonwoo said lowly. ‘I was seriously against inviting you seeming as the witness to your killing could very well be here. If he saw you, all hell would break loose. Don’t let it happen.’

‘And what about Jeonghan?’

Wonwoo’s gaze morphed into something Seungcheol could only comprehend as sympathetic, or even pitiful. He’d never seen him wear such a face; it unsettled him, and he didn’t want to hear his next few words. 

‘He’s never been more vulnerable in his life. Protect him as if your life depended on it.’

Seungcheol looked down at the dinner party again. He could see Jeonghan pushing a piece of orange around his glass, lips pouted, grumpy, with a strand of hair escaping from behind his ear. Seungcheol felt his chest ache.

My life does depend on it, he thought. If anything ever happened to Jeonghan, I’d never be able to forgive myself.

-

An orchestra of violins had begun to play as soon as Seungcheol descended onto the dance floor. People materialized into a space cleared for dancing couples- all of them swanning round, holding each other’s waists and shoulders, attire a shimmering blur of the billowing hems of ritzy dresses and clean-pressed, stiff suits. It was very easy to feel out-classed. But instead of gawking at the sight of the dance floor, Seungcheol’s eyes immediately found Jeonghan, who stood rigidly by Mingyu as he fiddled with his hair. He made his way over.

Seungcheol caught Jeonghan’s hand and tugged him towards the other dancers. ‘Come on,’ he said encouragingly. ‘I’ve seen you dancing round the kitchen to the radio before. Let’s go.’

Jeonghan’s eyes widened. He flushed a shade of pink. ‘Don’t be such an asshole. You can’t force me.’

Seungcheol brought Jeonghan closer. ‘Remember what I said- that if the plan succeeds, I might marry you?’

Jeonghan quickly bit down on his lip and glared at him sternly. ‘That’s bribery.’

‘But you know you want to.’

Sure enough, Seungcheol had his arm touching Jeonghan’s waist as they mimicked the rhythmic swaying and turning of everyone else. They did receive glances, of course; some of the more homophobic attendees would shoot them death-glares or mouth insults or slurs, but neither of them could frankly care less. Seungcheol’s hands braced Jeonghan with tenderness and a sense of vigilance; mainly because he was intensely paranoid knowing that his attacker could be in this very room, peering at him with eyes that Seungcheol wanted to gorge out of his skull. 

He took a deep breath in before bending closer to Jeonghan’s ear. He whispered, ‘I don’t mean to frighten you, but the person who tried to kill you a few months ago could be in this very room.’

He felt Jeonghan’s grip tighten on his shoulder. ‘Shit.’

Seungcheol tilted his head so that it was nestled against Jeonghan’s shoulder- just so Jeonghan knew he would be safe in his arms. 

‘It’s okay,’ Seungcheol murmured into his hair. ‘I won’t let anyone lay a finger on you, I promise. And if they do, I’ll shoot a bullet through their head.’

‘I’m flattered,’ Jeonghan replied, and let out a small, shaky laugh. Seungcheol sensed it was forced. ‘But thanks for reassuring me.’

Seungcheol smiled. He pecked Jeonghan’s cheek. ‘I should’ve tied your hair in that plait again. Remember that?’

‘Of course I do. That was an amazing day.’

‘My wallpaper is still the picture we took together.’

‘I noticed. Again, I’m flattered.’

‘I mean, of course, I look the best in it, but you looked kinda alright I suppose.’

Jeonghan made sure to misplace his foot so that it landed upon Seungcheol’s toes. The other boy swore in pain and muttered, ‘Asshole.’

They left the floor a little while later. Jeonghan went to find his glass of punch whilst Seungcheol excused himself in order to find the toilets. As expected, they were virtually gold plated- everything was pristine clean and looked as if they were from some sort of palace, which was no surprise, judging from the rest of the venue and the people that were there.

As Seungcheol glanced at his reflection in the mirror, he rinsed the soap from his hands, and shook the water off into the basin. He heard someone join him; casually, he shifted his gaze over to their side of the mirror, only to freeze.

His stomach churned as his eyes took in his companion. 

It was Jeonghan’s only living attacker.

Seungcheol didn’t even remember making the conscious decision to slam the man’s body into the wall. His head smashed into the tiles, and with a stiffened arm, Seungcheol hoisted him upwards, fingers gripping at his collar. The man choked in an attempt to breathe.

‘You shithead,’ Seungcheol seethed. ‘I know you, you scum. I’m going to fucking kill you, bastard, and I’m going to make you regret ever laying a finger upon my fucking boyfriend.’

The man gasped for air. ‘Wh-what are you t-talking ab-‘

Seungcheol drove his knee into the guy’s crotch with such force that he cried out. Seungcheol released his grip and sent him plummeting towards the floor. From there, he kicked him in the stomach, then the chest, then the ribs- everywhere he’d found bruises on Jeonghan, an image that still haunted him; an image that made him crave revenge, that drove the pressure behind every strike to the man’s body.

Blood seeped from the man’s mouth. ‘S-stop, n-not here, you can’t-‘

‘You almost fucking killed him!’ Seungcheol yelled. ‘How fucking dare you, shitbag!’

‘I-it was the o-other guy, I-I didn’t-‘

He drove his heel into the man’s head. ‘You’re a fucking liar!’ 

‘I-I beg of y-you, stop-‘

Seungcheol took him by the collar and threw his body against the basin, so that his head crashed into the mirror, reduced to shards around him.

‘How does it feel, bitch? To be fucking tortured like this?’ He chucked his body onto the floor this time, angling his leg backwards in order to force it into his body again. But just before he was about to do so, his ringtone echoed off the walls. He paused, and after consideration, hovering over the man’s body, he retreated a little, and angrily took his phone from his pocket. He hit answer without checking to see who it was.

‘Hello?’ he growled.

‘Seungcheol?’ 

It was Jeonghan. Seungcheol felt his lip twitch as he looked down upon the mess of a human on the floor. He wasn’t guilty. The man deserved it, as he lay there gurgling on his own blood, surrounded by shards of glass. But hearing Jeonghan’s voice filled him with a sanity that cleared his head. He was pulled back to reality. His breathing gradually began to return to normal; he hadn’t even realised he’d been panting with sheer frustration. Composing himself, he repositioned his bow tie, and exhaled uneasily.

‘Seungcheol? Are you there?’ 

He swiftly turned away from the man and began walking out of the bathroom, seeming as guiltless as possible. ‘Yeah, sorry. I got distracted for a second.’

‘Alright. Where are you? You’re taking ages.’

‘I got lost.’

Jeonghan hesitated. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine, asshole. I’ll be there in a second.’

Seungcheol hung up first.


	18. The Stilettos

Jeonghan’s eyes had been glued on the last place he’d seen Seungcheol take off towards the bathroom. He swirled his glass as he waited, constantly searching for the familiar smirk or curve of the jaw. He felt empty without it.

He’s taking too long, Jeonghan thought. He shouldn’t have gone alone. What if something happened? 

I should call him. 

Jeonghan had just begun to reach into his pocket when something caught his eye. 

He thought it was Seungcheol at first; the man had the same dark hair swept sophisticatedly from his face, revealing large caramel-coloured eyes, onyxy sweeping eyelashes and a general aura that seemed so familiar to Jeonghan. He felt his heart cease its beating inside his chest- a chest that suddenly seemed to tighten and his mind drew pathways between the face in front of him and the face he’d studied for so long, all those years ago.

His breath became hitched inside his throat.

It couldn’t be.

It’s not possible.

Don’t be so stupid, Jeonghan thought. He’s gone.

He urged himself to see sense and tried to re-find the figure amongst the sea of finery- but he was gone, with no trace of him ever being there in the first place. Jeonghan began to wonder if he’d imagined it.

I need more sleep. That’s all.

A hand pressed against his elbow. He gasped, and turned to find Seungcheol standing there, eyes wide at Jeonghan’s reaction.

‘What’s wrong?’ Seungcheol asked.

Jeonghan abruptly clamped his mouth into a smile and shook his head. ‘Nothing. Sorry, I didn’t mean to jump.’ He glanced over Seungcheol’s shoulder. It couldn’t have been him, Jeonghan. How could you even think about him when you’re here with the love of your life? 

‘You look tired.’ Seungcheol brought a hand up to his cheek. ‘I just need to finish off some introductions, then we can leave. You okay with that?’

Jeonghan nodded mutely.

Seungcheol seemed to grip onto Jeonghan a little tighter from that point on. As they politely drifted between groups of people, Jeonghan was very conscious of the way the assassin’s arm enclosed around his waist, and the way his gaze would flicker around the room every few moments, as if he too were searching for someone. His fingers would constantly reach for Jeonghan’s, like he was afraid he would suddenly disappear, and he’d even grip on when there was nobody to pretend in front of. Jeonghan was unsure whether Seungcheol was gripping on for the boy’s reassurance or his own.

Jeonghan knew something wasn’t right. But if it was such a big deal, Seungcheol would’ve told him- surely. Or maybe it would pain him to tell.

He felt selfish for wanting to know what Seungcheol was keeping from him. He felt selfish for feeling as if Seungcheol was beginning to build walls between them.

But maybe he was overreacting. Maybe Seungcheol had just been a little tired that night- because the morning after, he was almost back to his normal, cocky self.

Jeonghan thought it was best not to bring it up, even though it ate at him. 

-

It had been a tiring few weeks at work for Jeonghan. He’d become used to crawling tediously through mountains of paperwork until the sun had set and he could no longer see through his fatigue-laden eyes. He’d get home far too late for Seungcheol’s liking, and would be too tired for anything like the usual movie marathon. But that day, he realised he couldn’t cope with waking up and leaving for work hours before Seungcheol would and going for hours and hours on end without Seungcheol only to fall asleep as soon as he got home. He was sick of it- and he knew, from the that expressions his sleepy boyfriend made when Jeonghan wriggle into bed next to him late at night or when he’d peel himself away from him in the early hours, that he was being unfair.

That day, he awoke earlier than usual, and worked all the way from half five in the morning, faster than he’d ever worked in his life. With much an effort he’d finished before four in the afternoon. He sped home as fast as he could, chest buzzing, a warmth in his stomach. He felt ecstatic.

Today was Seungcheol’s day off. He’d be able to surprise him. He could just begin to imagine the look on his face, and feeling of him smiling into his hair as they hugged. The thought of it made him grin to himself a little as the lift approached their floor. 

He almost skipped up to the door. Jeonghan unlocked it and began hanging his coat up on the coat rail.

‘Asshole,’ he called out, ‘I’m h-‘

His arms froze in the air as he saw a woman’s felt trench coat hanging up in his spot. The excited butterflies in his stomach turned to stone. His insides suddenly felt heavy, as if gravel was churning up his insides.

He looked down at his feet. Next to Seungcheol’s shoes - his spot, for his shoes – were a pair of black stilettos. 

Unless Seungcheol had taken drastic measures to capture Jeonghan’s attention by becoming a cross dresser overnight, he had a visitor. A female visitor.

His hands trembled as he began the slow walk towards the main living area. He knew that Seungcheol used to live a life of night clubbing and girls. He’d witnessed it for himself. And maybe, now that Jeonghan hadn’t been around, Seungcheol had turned back to that life, to give him a thrill that the absent space in bed next to him could not. To think that Seungcheol would sneak a girl around when he thought Jeonghan wouldn’t notice; the thought of it stabbed Jeonghan, salt being lathered upon the wound more and more with every step. It was the fact that Seungcheol must’ve felt unappreciated and unloved enough to turn to another lover that hurt him most. He must’ve hurt Seungcheol. It was all Jeonghan’s fault.

But Jeonghan knew Seungcheol. He knew he couldn’t do that. He knew he wouldn’t do that. He knew he would never do that- not to Jeonghan.

So why was something telling him that he would?

Jeonghan’s knees shook as he finally arrived at the scene of Seungcheol stood opposite another woman. She leant against the marble of the kitchen island, dressed in a lavish scarlet dress that hugged at her beautifully curved figure. Black hair fell in ringlets over one shoulder. Her eyes, now fixated upon Jeonghan, were framed by long lashes that framed familiar, large hazel irises. She was stunning. And Jeonghan couldn’t work out what it was that was so familiar about her. He recognised her. He must’ve done. But how? How could he recognise a stranger? Moreover- how could he recognise a stranger that Seungcheol was cheating on him with?

What hurt the most as he flickered his attention between the two was the fact that they didn’t look guilty. They didn’t have remorse. Seungcheol looked at him with a hint of a smile- a gesture that would usually warm his insides now turned them icy cold, churning. The cheek of it. They stood there, glasses of wine in their hands, like Jeonghan and Seungcheol had done- Seungcheol wearing a t-shirt that Jeonghan had once bought him, chinos that Jeonghan had helped him pick out.

He ached. He ached so much.

It was the woman who spoke first, breaking the tautness in the air, with a voice velvety and rich. Warm. 

‘Hi, Jeonghan.’

Jeonghan could feel his eyes widen. Seungcheol had even told her his name. She even had the nerve to welcome him like this, into his own shared flat, one that he shared with Seungcheol. This was humiliation. This was insufferable. Unbearable. He wanted to vomit.

Jeonghan's mouth was dry. His throat was tight. His tongue was too numb and flaccid to form any words. 

Disheveled, he bleated, ‘S-Seungcheol-‘

The assassin grinned lopsidedly, and cut the other male short. 

‘Jeonghan,’ he said: ‘meet my sister, Areum.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao jeonghan overreacts so much. chill  
> sorry for suddenly dropping in "new" characters.. if any parts of the story seem unclear or need explaining, please dont hesitate to ask, bc i can be unknowingly cryptic or just a rly bad plot writer at times oops


	19. The Pinkie Promise

They sat on the balcony with a bottle of Pinot Noir between them. The cherry and amber colours of the sunset fell behind them, alongside Jeonghan’s hopes of having Seungcheol to himself. All he wanted to do was crawl into his arms.

That was a lie. It wasn’t all he wanted to do. 

But, at that moment, anything would’ve been better than watching on helplessly as he devoted his attention towards someone else. Yes, he was being selfish; but at that moment, he didn’t care, because Seungcheol was all he wanted after such a tiring day.

After a while, Seungcheol slapped his hands against his thighs and stood to his feet. ‘I’m hungry. Let’s all go get something to eat. Would Murano be alright?’

Areum nodded. ‘Sounds good.’ She stood to her feet and looked expectantly down at Jeonghan.

Jeonghan said, ‘I-I’m alright. You two haven’t seen each other in ages. I don’t want to intrude.’

Seungcheol opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by his older sister. ‘Nonsense. If anyone’s “intruding”, it’s me.’ She looked over at Seungcheol. ‘I’ll buy. No objections.’

He frowned, but realised there would be no use in arguing. ‘I wouldn’t dare of it. In that case, I’ll go take a shower. I’ll be quick, so you two can go wait down by the car if you like.’

As Jeonghan and Areum readied themselves to go, the boy did feel rather disgusted at his previous assumptions whilst watching Areum slip herself into those stilettos. He remained silent as they walked down to the car. They’d fatally forgot to ask Seungcheol for the keys, so ending up lingering awkwardly round the Mercedes. Jeonghan pretended to be a lot more interested in the sky than he did the woman next to him, despite the way she seemed to eye him up and down.

Oh, god, he thought. She’s going to ask me why the hell I’m dating someone so out of my league. She’s going to say she doesn’t approve of our relationship. She’s going to tell me she hates me, that she-

‘You love him, don’t you?’

Jeonghan snapped his head in her direction. She was staring back with an expression glazed with both scrutiny and maybe even melancholy. 

The male cleared his throat. ‘Yes. I do love him. Very much.’

Areum smiled. She said, ‘And do you know he loves you very much as well?’

Jeonghan blushed. He turned his attention towards the floor, a smile tugging at his lips. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘More than his job,’ she continued. ‘More than himself. And that’s saying something.’

He chuckled.

Areum laughed too, quietly, but then she licked her lips and looked away. ‘He speaks of you as if you’re his entire world, Jeonghan. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. Just… the way he says your name, and the way he smiles when he talks about you, and the way his eyes light up… I could go on forever.’ She looked at him sincerely. ‘Please, Jeonghan. You mean so much to him. And… he’s just so precious to me. Although it’s cliché, we were all we had as we grew up, except from the money and people’s empty smiles full of ill intentions. He protected me, even though he was the younger one. I owe him so much.’ Areum sighed. ‘So it’s sad he’s endangering himself with his line of work. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I lost him. What we’d do.’ This time, she reached over to Jeonghan and took his hands in hers. ‘Promise me you’ll keep him happy. Promise me you’ll never leave him.’

Jeonghan smiled again. ‘I promise.’

Areum nodded and continued glancing down at his fingers. Jeonghan felt self-conscious all of a sudden. It subsided as Areum said, ‘He hasn’t proposed yet?’

Stunned, he quickly withdrew his hands and coughed, mainly after choking in surprise. ‘Marriage? M-me and Seungcheol? Are you seriously-‘

‘Don’t try to pretend you both don’t want it,’ she cut in sharply. 

Jeonghan felt himself blushing again. He retreated a little, avoiding her gaze. ‘Well… he has mentioned it, but he wasn’t being serious. It was a joke.’

Areum rolled her eyes. ‘It wasn’t a joke, Jeonghan. He was being deadly serious.’

‘He hasn’t mentioned it since.’

‘Why does it have to be him who brings it up? You’re equally as capable of getting down on one knee.’

Jeonghan sighed and lowered his voice, saying, ‘I want to. I do. But I’m scared.’

‘Of what?’

‘What… what if… I don’t know. What if he has commitment issues? What if he thinks I’m rushing into it? I mean, it’s been less than a year.’

Areum took a few moments to process his words, Jeonghan waiting in anticipation, until she, finally, gave him a smile. ‘Look. He’s in love with you. Madly. I know very well that all he wants is to spend the rest of his life with you. So I don’t see what you’re so scared about.’ She turned away from him a little. ‘The next time I see you, I want to see a ring on your or his finger.’ She waved. ‘Bye.’

‘What?’ Jeonghan started in confusion. ‘Where are you going? We’re about to have dinner-‘

‘You and Seungcheol are,’ she said, pleased. ‘I’m staying in a hotel for the night. You two have a nice night together, okay?’

‘B-but are you just going to leave like that? Your brother will-‘

‘My brother is used to my unscheduled arrivals and departures. And, besides, I’m pretty sure you’d both prefer each other’s company.’

Jeonghan smiled. ‘Areum, you’re great.’

‘I know.’ 

She began walking, and didn’t look back over her shoulder. 

-

That night, Jeonghan sat snuggled into Seungcheol with the older male’s arm wrapped around his body, positioned on the couch in the lounge with a cheap rental film playing, neglected, in the background. Seungcheol’s eyes were closed- he could’ve been dozing, or asleep, but Jeonghan was too busy tracing the skin along the assassin’s hand and wrist to notice.

He liked the colour of his veins. Cool tones of aquamarine and iridescent cut furling pathways through shades of caramel that Jeonghan followed with his finger, marvelling at the soft and silkiness of his skin despite such a gruelling profession. To be honest, Jeonghan thought it summed up Seungcheol perfectly. He had the career of a devil but the heart of an angel- almost. He just happened to be a major asshole the majority of the time. 

Jeonghan flickered his eyes upwards to the other male’s. They were shut. His mouth was slightly ajar as he took slumbersome breaths, his eyelashes fluttering slightly, as if asleep. The boy frowned. This was their night. It wasn’t the time for Seungcheol to sleep.

He thought he saw his lips twitch upwards. Jeonghan prodded his chest. Pouting, he said, ‘Asshole, I know you’re awake.’ 

Seungcheol said, ‘I’m not. I’m asleep.’

‘Seungcheol!’ Jeonghan whined, thumping him in the chest. 

The assassin laughed and opened his eyes, and instantaneously grinned as he saw Jeonghan sitting there, brows excessively furrowed, his lower lip protruding. 

‘Don’t be so bratty,’ he mocked. ‘And don’t hit me so hard.’

‘But your sister went out of her way to give us some time to ourselves, and you just sit there pretending to be asleep!’

‘Alright, alright.’ He smiled, biting down on his lower lip. ‘What do you want to do? We have the whole flat just to ourselves.’

Jeonghan looked away, blinking quickly, as if flustered. ‘I didn’t necessarily mean that we…’

He was cut off by the other male, who wrapped his arms around him, solidly, and dragged him sideways so that they were lying horizontal, face to face. ‘I never said you did.’

Jeonghan felt heat rise to his cheeks as Seungcheol leaned in closer, their noses brushing. His heart rate increased. 

Seungcheol closed his eyes.

‘I’ve missed you.’

Jeonghan smiled a little. ‘I didn’t go anywhere.’

‘You’ve been spending so much time at work,’ Seungcheol insisted grumpily. ‘I’m jealous.’

‘Jealous? You?’

Seungcheol put on a phony face of hurt. ‘You could’ve been cheating on me for all I know. I mean, leaving early in the morning, arriving back late at night… it would’ve made sense.’

‘Don’t say that!’ Jeonghan frowned as he thought of his own assumptions earlier that day. ‘How would you like to come home to surprise your boyfriend, but instead find a pair of stilettos at the door?’

Seungcheol narrowed his lips into a thin line. ‘I probably should’ve told you beforehand. I thought you were going to pass out on the floor when you first came in.’ He broke into a smirk. ‘I mean, I’m flattered. I really am.’

‘Hey!’

‘Alright, alright.’ His expression changed. ‘But I should be offended by how untrusting you are of me.’

‘You thought it too! And you never even said anything.’

‘I was kidding, Jeonghan,’ he said. ‘I trust you. Although I was pretty jealous of that Mr Chwe or Mingyu or whatever, for getting to see your pretty little face every day.’

‘You were?’ He mimicked Seungcheol’s earlier words, breaking into a smile. ‘I’m flattered.’

‘But you do realise something, don’t you?’

‘What?’

‘You’re not allowed to do that again. Going and abandoning me like that. You’re not allowed to give anyone your full attention except from me.’

Jeonghan scoffed. ‘Who’s the bratty one now?’

‘Pinkie promise it,’ Seungcheol demanded. He held up his little finger, entangling his hand with Jeonghan’s and imitating his own action. He looked him dead in the eye. ‘Pinkie promise I’m your favourite person in the whole world and that you’ll always love me over everyone else.’

Jeonghan’s eyes widened a little. He looked down at their fingers, knitted together, and back up at Seungcheol. ‘This sounds like a proposal.’

‘You’re not pinkie promising it!’ Seungcheol protested.

‘A-alright.’ He squeezed the boy’s finger. ‘I pinkie promise that you’re my favourite person in the whole world and that I’ll always love you over everyone else.’

‘And?’

‘What?’

‘When we get a dog, I’m allowed to call it Earmuffs. You’ll let me braid your hair whenever I want. I’m allowed to take cute candid photos of you and you’re not allowed to go and delete them.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Okay. I pinkie promise we’ll have a dog called earmuffs and you can braid my hair and you’re allowed to take candid photos of me.’ 

Jeonghan hesitated. He thought of Areum’s words earlier.

‘Seungcheol…’

‘Hm?’

He lowered his voice to a sheepish mumble. ‘You know before we went into the dinner party…’

‘Yep. What about it?’

‘You said… you said that if I went along with it…’

‘Go on.’

Jeonghan took a deep breath in and gushed, ‘You said you’d marry me.’

Seungcheol’s lips opened as if to speak, but no words came out. He didn’t exactly draw away from Jeonghan, but his eyes darted away, and the other male felt the grip on his arms loosen. ‘I mean… Jeonghan, I’m not saying-‘

‘It’s fine,’ Jeonghan said quickly. ‘It’s okay. You were joking, I get it. It’s fine.’

‘N-no, I wasn’t-‘

‘I said it’s fine,’ he said a little too harshly. Embarrassed, he pushed himself to and upright position, his hair falling over his now pinked cheeks. He turned away from Seungcheol, because he was too humiliated to face him.

Seungcheol took his hand. ‘Listen. I do want to marry you. So, so badly.’ He paused. ‘Look at me. Please, Jeonghan.’

The other boy swallowed, and eventually shifted himself round to face the other boy. Seungcheol looked at him sincerely, with eyes that were honest. Truthful.

‘Today, at work… Wonwoo told me he had a big mission coming up. And, in all honesty, I’m scared. I’m scared that if I try to marry you whilst it’s all going on… it might just not be me in danger.’

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘Can we wait?’ Seungcheol asked. ‘Can we just wait, even if it’s only for a few months? Please?’

Jeonghan stared down at his hands, saying, ‘But why? Even if one of us proposed now, the wedding could be a year away, so it doesn’t matter.’

The other male sighed again and closed his eyes. ‘I didn’t want to say it like this, but wouldn’t it be less painful for you if your boyfriend died instead of your fiancée?’

Jeonghan’s mouth fell open. He looked distressed. ‘W-what? But you said you couldn’t get shot.’ His lower lip trembled and he shook his head. Tears prickled at his eyes all of a sudden. ‘Don’t say that. Don’t say that! Why would you say something like that?’

Seungcheol wrapped his arms around him. He held the boy’s body steadfast as sobs shook his body. ‘I’m sorry. I am. I just… I just want to be honest with you?’

‘Honest?’ Jeonghan bawled. ‘Do you know how scared I am? Kn-knowing you could die so easily. Knowing I could lose everything, knowing that you’re in that much danger-‘

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, as Jeonghan wept again. 

‘Don’t go,’ Jeonghan said. ‘Don’t go to work. Don’t go anywhere near a gun again if it means you could die.’

‘Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll be fine.’

‘I’m so scared, Seungcheol. I don’t want to lose you.’

‘You won’t. I’ll get through this mission, and everything will be okay. Then I’ll marry you. Okay?’ He halted as he brought his lips up to the other boy’s forehead and pressed them against his skin. ‘I promise.’

‘P-pinkie promise?’

Seungcheol glanced down at his fingers and intertwined them with Jeonghan’s. He tugged at his pinkie. ‘I pinkie promise.’

Jeonghan nodded. ‘You’re not allowed to go to work tomorrow, okay? We’re going to go to an aquarium and have lunch together because that way we’re both together and you’re safe.’ He snivelled. ‘Got it, asshole?’

‘I got it, asshole.’


	20. The Restaurant

A week later, Jeonghan found himself sat idly at his desk, bored. He’d finished his most recent client’s work hours before, yet it was only midday, so he couldn’t go home yet. Instead he’d resorted to texting Seungcheol. The assassin was out on duty all day.

Jeonghan’s chin was balanced on the desk as he pouted, writing Seungcheol’s name across his dormant phone screen as he waited for replies that would never come. Jeonghan knew he wouldn’t be able to reply for hours. 

But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t continue texting him.

_Our aquarium date was rly cute the other week. We need to do one again._

_I’m so hungry wtf. Can we have steak for dinner pls_

_I just counted the amount of paper clips I can balance across the top of my monitor. The answer is 208._

_Update: mr chwe does not like me investigating the number of paper clips I can balance across the top of the monitor and demands I put all the 208 paper clips back in colour order. Bitch_

_Did they ever find nemo_

_I’ve never seen finding nemo_

_Can we watch it together tonight pls_

_I’ll buy the icecream_

Jeonghan sighed. He closed off his phone and shut his eyelids wearily, very ready to fall asleep. But just as the background garble of typing and phone calls began to melt together, he heard his inbox indicate a new email.

Yawning, he opened it- he expected to find spam or a credit card bill, or, at most, a wage invoice. But the actual contents left his mouth hanging open, mid-yawn.

It was an email of conformation for lunch at the Plaza Restaurant- one of the most expensive, extravagant fine-dining restaurants in the city. Jeonghan frowned. He’d never made a reservation. He’d never even dream of it, seeming as he couldn’t afford to.

He, rather vexed, phoned up the restaurant.

‘Can I help?’

Jeonghan bluntly explained the situation.

‘I see.’ The woman on the other end paused as she presumably scrolled through her computer, or fished through her memory. ‘It was a reservation made in person for twelve fourty-five. He was a male looking as if he were in his early twenties, if I remember correctly. Dark hair, large dark eyes… handsome looking, if I may say so myself. He didn’t leave a name.’

Jeonghan pondered over it for a few moments, until his eyes widened in realisation. Colour crept to his cheeks. Seungcheol. ‘Okay, thank you.’ He hung up.

Seungcheol must’ve made a dinner reservation in secret, Jeonghan thought. This was his way of telling me.

Unable to hide a grin, he began typing away at his phone.

_12:45 at the plaza restaurant? You’re rly showing off now, wow_

_Just kidding. I cant wait_

_See you sooonn <3 _

Jeonghan finished a few trivial tasks before freshening up in the bathroom. He splashed his face with handfuls of cold water and chewed frantically on minty chewing gum, carefully combing his hair so it sat on his shoulders sleekly. His heart was thumping. Seungcheol was treating him to lunch. It was a date. Even after the months they’d known each other, he felt as excited to be alone together now as he would’ve been when he first started to fall for him. 

He elatedly announced to Mr Chwe he was going on a date and wouldn’t return any time soon, before grabbing a taxi to the restaurant. He did arrive a little early; but rightfully so- he couldn’t be late to a date with Seungcheol. He was too excited to be late.

He gave the waiter his email address and was directed to a two-seat table slightly away from other diners. Seungcheol hadn’t arrived yet. So Jeonghan patiently sat waiting, looking through the menu, fingers tapping against the table top. 

His eyes poured over the rich interior. The windows were French and long, stretching upwards to a ceiling that seemed very far away that bore grand chandeliers. The walls were made from marble, white and grey, and wood, with various gold decorations and tassels that really made it seem as if he was dining in Buckingham Palace.

Why would Seungcheol bring him to such a place? What sort of occasion was it? Had he unknowingly passed their six month anniversary? 

Was Seungcheol finally going to propose?

The thought of it initially caused Jeonghan’s mood to brighten even further, but as he sat there, alone, waiting, he began to get a little annoyed. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. He became rather restless, shimmying around and fidgeting on the grey velvet chair.

Eventually, he heard someone be greeted by the waiters and waitresses. Seungcheol. Jeonghan read over the pasta section at least eleven times before he heard his dinner date approaching. He didn’t want to seem desperate, so he didn’t look up; he pretended that he hadn’t been getting worried for him, either.

‘You’re late,’ Jeonghan said in a bored voice. ‘I’ve been looking at the menu. Have you seen these prices, Seungcheol? You better be the one paying.’

There was a short silence.

‘Hi, Angel.’

Jeonghan froze.

That wasn’t Seungcheol’s voice.

He tried his best to keep down the nausea that made his stomach twist, and looked upwards. His face went slack; he turned a sickened shade of white.

Jisoo.

Jeonghan felt all the colour drain from his face. Fury and confusion and shock ate at his insides and consumed him in a sense of numbness. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. It wasn’t.

Jisoo seated himself across from the other boy. He was smiling, almost- his eyes were slim as he looked upon Jeonghan with an expression of both warmth and tenderness. Although Jeonghan used to love pouring himself over the bronze colours of his irises, and would find solace in such gentle and fond shades, right then, he felt paralysed. 

‘How are you?’ he asked. 

Jeonghan visibly stiffened at the sound of his voice. Although his head was bleary and the world swam around him as if he was in a bubble, Jisoo’s American accent cut through the haze like some sort of strident blade. 

Jisoo smiled. ‘You shouldn’t act so surprised,’ he said. ‘We saw each other only the other month, at the dinner party.’ 

It was him all those weeks ago. He hadn’t been dreaming it.

‘Your hair is so long,’ Jisoo mused, running his eyes through Jeonghan’s hair as if it were his fingers. ‘Look at you. You’re still as gorgeous as ever. So pretty. You look like an angel.’

Jeonghan wanted to shake his head. He wanted - begged – his body to do anything, even if it was only to blink, to breathe, to punch the stupid smile off his face. But he was too numb. Too horrified.

Jisoo lowered his voice and tilted towards him, resting his weight on his folded arms. ‘I missed you so much, Jeonghan. You haven’t changed. You look a little happier than when I last saw you, but just looking at you… I’m falling in love with you all over again. You’re still gorgeous. Still making me want to marry you.’

Something inside Jeonghan snapped. Unsteadily, he stood to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor as he did so.

‘Don’t fucking say that. Don’t.’

Jisoo looked confused. ‘What? What’s wrong?’

Jeonghan swallowed and clenched his fists- so tightly that he could feel his nails begin to dig into his skin. ‘If you have nothing else to do except ridicule me, I’m leaving.’

Jeonghan had to stable himself against the table before beginning to take a step away from it, chest tight, screaming. But just as he began to leave, he felt someone’s arms wrap around him.

Jisoo’s touch felt cold. It felt unbearable. Jeonghan’s body went rigid. As much as he tried to prevent it, Jisoo’s scent struck his nose- chocolate and leather, guitars, hoodies. Everything came flooding back to him. It hit him as a warm lump rising in his throat, and tears that gathered at the backs of his eyes. 

‘I’m so sorry, Jeonghan,’ Jisoo murmured into Jeonghan’s shoulder. 

His breath was warm. It tickled Jeonghan’s skin, and he hated it. 

‘Please don’t leave,’ Jisoo continued. ‘If an apology is what you’re looking for, then I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Forgive me. I shouldn’t have left you like that.’ Jisoo squeezed Jeonghan’s body tighter into his. He moved his lips closer to his ear. ‘Don’t cause a scene, baby, please. Just come and sit down. We’ll talk it out.’

A sob came from Jeonghan’s throat. He didn’t know why he was crying. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to feel anything for Jisoo at all. He didn’t want to sit down and talk to him, to make things right, because Jisoo was gone. Jisoo had disappeared all those years ago, back to America, and he was never coming back, because Jeonghan had erased every memory of him. Jisoo didn’t have the right to make him cry. Jisoo was gone.

‘Jeonghan,’ he uttered. ‘Sit down.’

There were footsteps, in an instant, and the sound of the staff trying to restrain someone. It clearly didn’t work very well; because the footsteps became louder, and a sturdy hand suddenly grabbed at Jisoo’s shoulder and shoved him away, so that his face almost became welcomed by the expensive paisley carpet.

The visitor growled,

‘Get your filthy hands off my fucking boyfriend, you bastard.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was short but way too eventful oops  
> but finally !!! jisoos has arrived. get ready 4 heartbreak


	21. The Reunion

Jisoo laughed for a split second as his eyes landed upon Seungcheol standing in front of him, who stood as if he was truly about to punch the male round the face. Seungcheol’s hand was wrapped around his boyfriend’s arm, silently ushering Jeonghan behind him, whilst glowering at Jisoo with pure rage.

‘I think you mean my fiancée,’ Jisoo corrected apathetically.

Jeonghan’s eyes widened, yet Seungcheol didn’t need to see his reaction in order to clench his free fist in anger. He seethed, ‘Don’t you dare call him that.’

Jisoo sighed. Casually, he brushed the dust off of his trousers and looked upon him with total contempt. ‘No offence, but it really is none of your business.’

‘You’re hurting him,’ Seungcheol fired back. ‘Of course it’s my business!’

Jeonghan was shaking. He didn’t want this to happen. He’d never planned on seeing Jisoo ever again; let alone with Seungcheol at his side, spitting fire like he’d never seen him do so before. He didn't know whether to stop them or to encourage Seungcheol or to just run.

‘You don’t know Jeonghan like I do,’ Jisoo retorted icily as he slid his gaze across to the cowering boy. ‘You can’t act as if you’re his knight in shining armour when you don’t even know of the stuff we had to face.’

Seungcheol looked back at Jeonghan. The tears weren’t coming as violently now, but still sat upon his cheeks and glassed his eyes, whilst he stared vacantly at the floor. He looked completely numb. He didn’t react to Jisoo’s words, but, in fact, attempted to tug himself away from Seungcheol. 

The assassin refused to let go.

‘Do you know about his parents?’ Jisoo continued. ‘Do you know about the hardship he went through?’

‘Do you know about the “hardship” you put him through?’ Seungcheol retaliated lividly. He took a step closer. ‘Do you know how depressed he was? Do you know how much he cried at night? Do you have any idea what you did to him?

‘Don’t act like you know it all. Don’t act like you’re all mighty and compassionate.’

‘He tried to kill himself because of you!’ Seungcheol yelled. ‘Don’t you fucking dare tell me you’re still engaged! Don’t even consider yourself as anything more but a regret!’ His voice dropped menacingly to something just above a venomous whisper. He grabbed a fistful of Jisoo's (previously) immaculately-ironed shirt and hoisted the man closer to him. 'Don't you dare come anywhere near Jeonghan ever again, or I swear to Jesus that I will muck up your pretty little face.'

Seungcheol gripped onto Jeonghan little tighter. Then, he led the other boy away from the table, not giving Jeonghan a chance to look back at Jisoo, or for Jisoo to protest. He paraded his boyfriend out of the restaurant, people scarpering out of his way as he went- eyes moistened by his own tears of fury.

-

Jeonghan never told Seungcheol about going to meet Jisoo later that week. It wasn’t that he was trying to hide it from him- he just didn’t want the assassin to get angry or upset in any way. He figured it wouldn’t harm anyone except himself. Therefore, he had nothing to lose.

As he walked up to their meeting place, his palms began to permeate with sweat. He’d talked himself into this all too quickly. Now, he realised he never actually wanted to see Jisoo ever again, and was only doing it to put his mind at rest by telling him one final time that they were done with.

Jisoo was already sat patiently at the bench when Jeonghan arrived. As ever, he was turned out neatly, and immediately rose to his feet as the other boy came closer.

Jeonghan tried not to make eye contact, but he was very aware of the way Jisoo looked upon him. It felt familiar. It felt exactly as it did all those years ago, and he hated it. He hated how Jisoo made him feel.

‘Thank you so much for coming,’ Jisoo gushed as Jeonghan sat down, which Jisoo mimicked.

‘I’m not doing this for you,’ Jeonghan retaliated curtly. 

Jisoo’s face fell. He opened and closed his mouth, and bashfully looked at the park they were overlooking. It wasn’t the same as when Jeonghan and Seungcheol had visited it months ago. Less people were around, and the skies were greyer- it didn’t feel like a date, unlike him and Seungcheol’s morning together, where he plaited his hair and fiddled with flowers. In fact, Jeonghan remembered thinking about Jisoo back then in suck a way that made him feel guilty; now, as he sat there next to Jisoo, thinking about Seungcheol, he felt even more so.

‘I guess our reunion was a bit dramatic,’ Jisoo admitted quietly. ‘Sorry.’

Irritated, Jeonghan shifted in his seat. ‘What are you here to tell me?’

Jisoo licked his lips nervously, saying, ‘I’m so sorry for everything I said when I left you. I just…’ He sighed. ‘You won’t believe me. I know you won’t. But in truth, Jeonghan, I didn’t mean to leave you so suddenly. I only knew about it on the day. I thought you’d be heartbroken for me to leave so suddenly and that you’d try to stop me, and because I loved you, I wouldn’t be able to force myself to go. I said those things to convince and you and convince myself to get on that plane. I didn’t mean a word, Jeonghan.’

The other boy maintained a face of iron. ‘So you came here to make excuses for something that happened years ago?’ He crossed one leg over the other, smiling pettily. ‘You’re right. I don’t believe you.’

Jisoo’s face contorted with emotion, saying, ‘I’m telling the truth. Honestly, I am. I lied back then because I wanted to go to America and it was one of my only chances to do so. I missed by family and my friends and there was a lot more on offer there than there was at home.’

‘A lot more on offer?’ Jeonghan scoffed. ‘You hurt me like that just so you could prance round in America?’

‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jeonghan. I was lying. I didn’t mean any of it.’

‘Well I didn’t know that, did I?’ He could finally bring himself to look at Jisoo. ‘Just because you didn’t intend to hurt me doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Because it did. It hurt like fuck.’ He shook his head. ‘You could’ve told me. A phonecall. An email. A text. Anything. Just anything. You could’ve done anything to make it better but you did nothing. You didn’t even care.’

‘If I could change it, I would. I was young and I was foolish and I regret it so much.’ He momentarily closed his eyes, face looking sincere. ‘So, please, Jeonghan. Give me a chance.’

Jeonghan laughed coldly. ‘You want me to forgive you? You think it’s that easy?’

‘Just… just let me try to fix things. Please, just look at me without that hatred and sadness in your eyes.’

The other boy shook his head. ‘No. You don’t make me sad anymore. I’m happy. I am so happy. Do you really think I still care about you enough to still mourn over what you took from me?’ Another smile formed on his lips. It was a strung between being hurtful and proud. ‘I’ve found happiness in the form of the best man on earth, and, let me tell you- I’ve never been happier. He’s my world.’

Jisoo’s optimism faltered. He looked away. The chilled wind rushed through his hair and veiled parts of his face, making him seem doleful. ‘I’m glad to hear that.’ He exhaled. ‘I suppose now would be a bad time to tell you I still love you, right?’

Jeonghan scoffed again. ‘Damn right.’

‘Then let me be a friend, Jeonghan, at least.’

‘You know friendships never work after dating.’

The other boy turned desperate. He angled his body towards the other boy, eyes wild. ‘Then what do I do, Jeonghan?’ He shifted closer. ‘What do you want me to do?’

Jeonghan had nothing to say. He stood up, repositioning the hem of his jacket, and turned to walk away. 

He felt Jisoo’s hand grab at his. He wanted to snatch himself away, but Jisoo held on.

‘Don’t leave.’

Jeonghan didn’t say anything. He pulled himself away and began walking.

‘I-I know what happened to you, Jeonghan,’ Jisoo called out after him. ‘When they tried to kill you. The loan sharks.’

Jeonghan stopped in his tracks. He didn’t turn around, but his face fell. Jisoo’s last two words struck him in the stomach the same way his attacker’s had done. But he had to play it cool. He had to pretend it was okay, and that Jisoo couldn’t affect him in any way. 

‘Who told you?’ He tried to keep his voice as stable as possible. ‘H-how do you know?’

The other man ignored him. ‘I don’t mean to scare you or anything,’ Jisoo continued, ‘but they’re under my power. All of them. The ones who attacked you.’

This time, Jeonghan couldn’t help but spin round. Jisoo was already stood up. His face was masked by a newfound darkness that twisted the previously hopeless and distressed façade he’d been displaying earlier.

‘What?’ Jeonghan attempted a slightly humoured smile. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘At the dinner party, Jeonghan. I saw you. I know you saw me too.’

Jeonghan began to walk back towards him. His fists were balled, and he knew his face was a picture of madness. ‘What do you mean? Tell me!’

‘I own the loan company,’ Jisoo explained, unstirred by Jeonghan’s anguish. ‘That’s why I came over here. That’s why I was at the dinner party.’

‘Y-you?’

Jisoo, realising the other boy was now vulnerable, took a step closer. ‘I know the guy who got away with your attack. I can give you all his details. Name, address, family, bank details- everything. You can get revenge. I could do it for you.’

Jeonghan felt winded. Jisoo would be willing to expose or harm his own employee for him – someone he’d abandoned and hurt many years ago. He bleated, ‘Why? Why would you give that to me?’

‘I want you to be safe, angel.’

Jeonghan shook his head. ‘No. No, what’s the real reason? What would it cost?’

‘You.’ Jisoo’s hair still partially masked his eyes, but Jeonghan could still feel his sinister gaze against his own cowering retreat. Although his words were gentle and warm, his demeanour was not. ‘Your love.’

The familiar sensation of nausea settled within Jeonghan’s stomach. Weakly, he shook his head, chuntering, ‘No. Fuck off. I-I’ll get my own assassin to do the job himself.’

‘Just come back to me. Let me fix things. Don’t walk away.’

‘I don’t need you, Jisoo, just stop it-‘

‘I beg of you,’ he yelled, voice suddenly raised. 

Jeonghan flinched at his tone. This wasn’t the same Jisoo he used to love. This was a Jisoo that had been warped by adulthood and power and money. It wasn’t the Jisoo he used to find comfort and solace in, or the Jisoo who used to smell of Sunday afternoons and chocolate, or the Jisoo he thought he’d grow old with. This was someone different. This was someone who made him long for safety- in the form of Seungcheol.

Jeonghan ran. He was trying not to cry as his feet hit the path, fingers fumbling in his pockets for his phone. He hit the screen as his hands shook. Seungcheol picked up on the third ring.

‘S-seungcheol,’ Jeonghan choked. 

As he said his name and thought of the man’s embrace, a sob retched from his throat. 

‘Seungcheol, I need you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slow update ;-; i ended up rushing this a bit so im sorry if its pretty lq too :c but nvm !! and happy late wonwoo day:)) i hope he gets better soon !! :((


	22. The Ambush

Days later, Jeonghan found himself rooting through the bedroom drawer, brows furrowed, giving sighs of annoyance. Seungcheol sat nearby on the bed. His arm was balanced atop of his folded knees with his chin in his palm. 

Sleepily, he yawned. He watched as his boyfriend threw numerous articles of clothing across the room.

‘What are you looking for?’ he asked.

‘A tie,’ Jeonghan huffed back. He straightened up. ‘Mr Chwe wants me to wear this exact one for a board meeting tomorrow. I know I have it. I just can’t find it.’

By the time he’d finished speaking, Seungcheol had managed to creep up behind him and slip his arms around his waist. Affectionately, the assassin placed his head upon his shoulder. Jeonghan instantly felt a little more relaxed when feeling Seungcheol’s rough hands merge with his own. The man’s familiar scent loosened his previously taut muscles.

‘It can’t be worth this much stress,’ the older male murmured.

‘I know.’ He let Seungcheol absentmindedly run his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair- mainly because he found it soothing. ‘I think it might be back at my flat.’

Seungcheol stopped. Jeonghan sensed him go rigid. ‘You’re not going back there on your own. I’ll go for you.’

‘Seungcheol, it’s fine. I’ve been there since I got beaten up. I’ll be fine, I promise.’

‘No.’ He lifted his chin off of the other boy’s shoulder and turned himself round to look him straight in the eyes. ‘Remember what I said about my missions? About things being dangerous?’

‘But it’s just my flat.’

‘I don’t care. I’m coming with you.’

Although Jeonghan wanted to pretend he didn’t want Seungcheol to accompany him, as they sat in the car, he felt a massive sense of relief and security. He’d felt uneasy about the place ever since the attack; he couldn’t think of a single positive memory attached to the place, except the fact that it was where he’d had his fateful first meeting with the love of his life. But apart from that, any mental souvenirs from the four-walled prison were drowned in alcohol and tears and blood. He didn’t want to go back.

Once they were near, he couldn’t help but sense how Seungcheol had suddenly become a little more tense- solemn all of a sudden, as if he was in hunting mode.

Jeonghan vainly tried to brighten the mood. ‘It’s not even a very nice tie. Pretty tacky, if you ask me.’

He heard Seungcheol give a weak laugh. It sounded nervous. ‘Sounds like you.’

‘Hey!’

The car came to a halt outside the apartment blocks, dimly lit against the dusky sky. Neither of the pair moved at first. Seungcheol’s hands were still gripping onto the steering wheel- so tight that his knuckles were white. He angled his face away from Jeonghan, although the other boy knew his eyes were flicking around the car park, his expression probably steely with predator instinct. 

‘I-I’ll go,’ Jeonghan said, dulling the sudden friction. 

He reached for the door handle, but Seungcheol abruptly grabbed his other wrist.

The assassin blurted, ‘Wai-‘

He was cut off mid-sentence as several figures appeared from behind neighbouring vehicles, beginning to stalk towards the car. Jeonghan’s stomach turned. He shot a glance over at Seungcheol, whose foot was already flat to the floor in an attempt to reverse away.

A masked man suddenly launched himself at Jeonghan’s side of the car. His bat was swung in the direction of the passenger seat, and as Jeonghan saw it approaching, he screamed.

Fortunately Seungcheol’s car was faster than the attacker and veered away before Jeonghan could come to any harm. He immediately slammed his foot onto the brakes and reached into his pocket.

‘Don’t move,’ he growled at Jeonghan. ‘For the love of god, Jeonghan, stay put.’

He leapt out of the car and fired at the men. There were five of them so far- two went down after one bullet each, and the other three still attempted to attack Seungcheol with their various weapons. One had a gun that was cloddishly fired towards the car and Seungcheol himself, but after the assassin shot his hand and kicked him square-on in the chest, he was no longer a threat.

More began to appear. Jeonghan could only watch in horror as one crept behind Seungcheol and seized him by his neck. Adeptly, Seungcheol used the man as a brace as he kicked another in the stomach, running up his body in the process, before using the run-up to back-flip himself over his captor, flooring him against the ground. He flew fists at the others, shooting them as they lay on the asphalt- just for good measure.

There were more. This time, they ignored Seungcheol, and ran, to his horror, straight towards the car. 

‘Get the other one!’ they were yelling.

Jeonghan watched as Seungcheol’s face slackened to a face of panic. For a split second, his veteran-like aura of professionalism became fractured, and a selfless sort of lover instinct caused emotion to weaken his slick mask. Seeing Jeonghan cowering in fear from men armed with executing machines sent all judgement or competence numb- like his mind, his body.

But te killer instinct swiftly kicked in again as he realised that he had to act fast.

Again, Seungcheol was faster than them. He shot any that were too close, straight in the back, then sprinted his way over to the driver’s side, still shooting. He clambered in and pressed his foot onto the accelerator pedal, ploughing straight through the mass of assailants. 

Relentlessly, they still fired bullets at the car, and, received with a gasp from Jeonghan, shattered the window behind the passenger seat.

Then they were gone.

‘Are you okay?’ Seungcheol gushed as he sped off down the street. ‘Did they harm you? Are you alright?’

‘Seungcheol!’ Jeonghan cried. ‘You were the one in danger! You were strangled! They didn’t get you anywhere else, did they?’

The assassin scoffed. Although his tone sounded humorous, his voice was shaking. ‘Me? I’m the best. They can’t even touch me.’

‘Now is not the time to be big-headed!’ Jeonghan yelled. ‘Answer me!’

Seungcheol sighed, saying, ‘I’m fine, so calm down.’

‘I just…’ Jeonghan dragged his hands down his face. ‘Except from the first time they came, I’ve never been so scared in my life.’

‘Well we’re fine. See? No blood. No broken bones. Just a shattered window. And no tie.’

Jeonghan exhaled. ‘This is so like you, Seungcheol. Cocky even when confronted by a mob of killers.’

‘I was just showing off.’

Jeonghan knew that Seungcheol was showing off, as ever, but he felt too shell-shocked to say anything. Yet there was also something else he knew, though he insisted on keeping silent about it.

He knew this was Jisoo’s doing. He knew that, by refusing Jisoo’s affection, he’d endangered himself and Seungcheol. That Jisoo would now be after him. That Jisoo would most probably have to get through Seungcheol first.

But Jeonghan couldn’t tell Seungcheol this. Seungcheol couldn’t know about the fact that he’d seen Jisoo again. After Jeonghan had met him at the park and called up his boyfriend in hysterics, Seungcheol had found him and held him tight in his arms and told him that whatever was the matter would be okay. Jeonghan hadn’t been able to speak through the tears. His own actions had sickened him so much so that he couldn’t even bring himself to say them aloud. Fortunately, his boyfriend didn’t need an explanation, and rubbed circles on his back until he stopped sobbing.

Meanwhile, as Seungcheol drove at a break-neck speed back to their flat, constantly checking to see if they were being followed, he also knew why they’d attacked Jeonghan’s flat. He knew that this current mission he’d been assigned to was endangering the other boy, and he knew that he couldn’t tell Jeonghan, in case he told him to pull out from the task. Then Seungcheol wouldn’t be able to get revenge for Jeonghan. He wouldn’t be able to fulfil the satisfaction of killing who’d tried to kill the person most precious to him. He knew that, now, he had to protect Jeonghan at all costs- even more so than before.

So neither of them said anything. They sat there, in the car, Seungcheol’s fingers drifting over to tangle with Jeonghan’s, whilst a silence penetrated the air, and both of them felt immersed in a gnawing sense of guilt.

-

Wonwoo called Seungcheol into his office the next day.

As much as Seungcheol respected Wonwoo, he dreaded being summoned behind the foreboding door titled ‘OFFICE’, because he knew all too well that it wouldn’t end very well. And, after the previous day’s event, he felt more nervous than ever.

Seungcheol sat across from his deadpan-faced boss as Wonwoo focused on his monitor. He didn’t peel his eyes away to glare at Seungcheol.

He said flatly, ‘We need to crack down on this loan company. They’ve gone too far.’

Seungcheol stared down at his fingers. He hadn’t told him about the attack on Jeonghan’s flat.

‘They’ve done five killings this week already,’ Wonwoo explained. ‘They continue to torment their clients when they can’t pay the ridiculously high charges. We need to put them back in their place.’ He clicked the end of a fountain pen. ‘Junhui is already doing subtle things, like punching up some of the company’s employees with lesser authority.’ Wonwoo darkly turned his attention towards Seungcheol. ‘I want you to perform a scare.’

Seungcheol listened and watched intently. He nodded.

‘Kill the vice president,’ Wonwoo commanded. ‘He’ll be in a meeting. There’s a rooftop opposite the meeting room, so you’ll get a perfect view and firing range. I know you’ll do it right, so when you do, the company will freak the hell out. If they haven’t given up by then, you can continue working your way up the ranks until you get to shoot the “big boss”. But I don’t want it to get that far.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Seungcheol said. 

‘It wasn’t a question,’ Wonwoo shot. ‘I know you won’t miss. I know you won’t fuck it up. So you’re the only one who can.’

Seungcheol realised that this was Wonwoo’s way of complimenting him, so he smiled, and stood up. He bowed his head and declared, ‘I won’t let you down, sir.’ Boldly, he straightened up. ‘I will put an end to this company.’

‘Good.’ Wonwoo’s eyes flickered towards the door. ‘You can leave now.’ 

As Seungcheol turned, his hand reached for the door knob, but his boss’s voice halted his exit.

‘Be careful.’

Seungcheol froze and looked hesitantly over his shoulder. ‘Why?’

‘Jeonghan.’ 

Seungcheol’s heart flipped. Hotly, he repeated, ‘Why?’

Wonwoo paused. ‘Just be careful.’

Seungcheol didn’t even nod. He walked out, shutting the door behind him, and could only breathe again once he managed to steady himself against the back of the sofa.

He was terrified. Not for himself; not for the company; but for Jeonghan.


	23. The Rooftop

Seungcheol checked the clock on his phone. Five minutes and thirty-seven seconds until the vice president sits at the head of the table and receives a bullet through his head. Unfalteringly, he exhaled through his mouth, and looked over at the currently empty room. His tripod was already set out before him, gun securely in place. He adjusted his balaclava, then decided to call his boyfriend.

Jeonghan picked up straight away. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi,’ Seungcheol said. ‘I just thought I’d call you because I have nothing better to do.’

‘Well, thanks.’

Seungcheol grinned. He loved hearing Jeonghan’s voice, even when it was sarcastic or bitter. ‘I’m on a mission right now.’

‘You are?’ He paused. ‘Who are you killing?’

‘Some vice president.’

‘Of?’

Seungcheol hesitated. ‘The loan company.’ He replayed what Wonwoo had told him that morning. ‘He recently arrived over from training in America. About our age, actually.’

Jeonghan didn’t say anything. Seungcheol couldn’t even hear the sound of his breath over the reciever. 

Confused, he queried, ‘Jeonghan? You still there?’

‘W-what does he look like?’ the boy asked. His voice was shaky.

‘I dunno. I’ll find out soon. Why?’ Seungcheol made a noise of realisation. ‘Oh. You’re guilty about me getting revenge, right?’

‘N-no, I-‘

‘It’s okay, Jeonghan. I want to do this. I need to do this.’

‘That’s not what I mean, you can’t-‘

‘Wonwoo trusts me. He says I won’t fuck it up.’

‘Please, Seungcheol, don’t k-kill him, you ca-‘

‘I’ll be fine. I’m not in danger. Nothing will happen, I promise.’ From the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the meeting room open. ‘Okay, they’re coming in. I’ll see you later, baby. No napping in the bathroom again.’

‘But Seungcheol-!’

He closed off his phone, and, instantaneously, the calm and collected act disappeared. Jeonghan’s protesting had put doubts into his mind. Surely this was what Jeonghan wanted- vengeance. The satisfaction of knowing he was putting his perpetrators through as much pain as he’d gone through. Or was it simply Seungcheol being selfish?

He was suddenly brought back to reality upon seeing someone seat themself at the head of the table. Everyone in the room had now seemed to settle themselves into their seats. This was Seungcheol’s cue.

He took a deep breath before grasping the gun between his gloved fingers and peering through the scope, focusing the centre of the cross hair upon the figure in the chair. He squinted against the weak sunlight, momentarily put off; as his eyes finally adjusted, he caught sight of the profile of his target.

And then, suddenly, Jeonghan’s protests became plausible. The man at the other end of the gun was the very man he’d fired insults at only the other week- the man who’d had the audacity to call Jeonghan his fiancée, even after reducing the boy to tears in front of his very eyes.

Seungcheol never usually got nervous about killing- he’d grown used to it. But this was an exception.

Jeonghan had begged him not to shoot the man. He must’ve known it would be him. How? And why would he care? Jeonghan was over him. 

Or was he?

The way he’d sobbed at the restaurant; the way he’d been acting differently ever since; the way he’d rang him up in floods of tears the other day, hysterical; it lead to the conclusion that maybe he wasn’t over him. Maybe he did still love him.

The thought of it tore him apart. Jeonghan loved Seungcheol. The assassin knew that. He trusted that. But what if he loved that man too? How could Seungcheol shoot the person Jeonghan really loved? 

And what if he didn’t? How could he shoot the person who used to make him smile, make him laugh, make him want to actually be alive? Or would Jeonghan be glad that Seungcheol would be shooting the source of his misery for the past few years?

He couldn’t hesitate when killing him. Wonwoo trusted him. He couldn’t let him down. For his own satisfaction, he had to shoot him.

He couldn’t bare to look as he pulled his finger down on the trigger. He heard the shattering of glass, a scream, and then felt a shadow pass over his vision.

As he reopened his eyes, he could no longer see his target, but a body instead. He looked up to discover the very man who’d attacked Jeonghan- unfortunately, alive. The man’s fingers were enclosed around the barrel of Seungcheol’s gun, pushing it off target. As Seungcheol peered past him, he saw that he’d missed hitting the vice president, and had actually shattered a vase in the corner. Needless to say, chaos ensued. 

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ the man said. 

Seungcheol didn’t take his hands away from the gun. He glared at the man in fury. He ruined his shot.

‘Your face looks surprisingly okay for someone who almost got beaten to death,’ he growled- pettily, almost.

The man snarled. ‘I had stitches for 6 weeks, you bitch.’

Seungcheol smiled sweetly in reply.

The man punched him in the cheek angrily. As Seungcheol was thrown to the ground, he laughed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

‘You really want to fight?’ he cooed. 

‘It’s my job.’

‘Mine too.’ He stood to his feet. ‘I never lose.’

‘You just missed your shot. You missed when you tried to shoot me the first time, too. It’s emotion that’s your downfall.’

Seungcheol’s lip twitched upwards. He punched the guy in the nose and watched him stumble sideways. 

‘Don’t pretend you know me,’ he said.

‘I know more than you realise,’ the other man panted as he straightened up. Blood trickled from his nose and into the cracked skin of his lips. ‘That boy- Jeonghan. He’s your weakness too, isn’t he? He’s your Achilles heel.’

Sparked with anger, Seungcheol grabbed the man by the shoulder and shoved him backwards, so that his back landed upon the concrete barrier shielding off the edge of the roof. He pinned him down, teeth bared, gritted, fuming.

The other man laughed. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? You’d die for that stupid boy. You, an almighty assassin feared throughout the land, who goes all puppy-eyes and soft as soon as he’s mentioned.’

‘Shut up. Right now.’

‘I was there the other day at his flat. I saw the moment you ran into gun fire in order to protect him. You didn’t even realise you were doing it.’

‘Shut up!’

Then they heard sirens. Shouting. Looking down, Seungcheol saw a formation of police officers. He’d forgotten about the fact that he’d still actually fired at the meeting, even if he had missed. 

His eyes widened. He hadn’t planned his escape. How could he even think of leaving without killing Jeonghan’s attacker? 

‘It’s all over now,’ the man chuckled from beneath him. ‘You can’t leave this rooftop. Even if you do, we’ll find Jeonghan. We’ll kill him first. Then you.’

Seungcheol brought his arm up to the man’s neck, firmly, so that he was choking whilst trying to breathe. ‘I won’t let that happen. You won’t be able to even touch him.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. You’re awfully naïve. Who’s saying we haven’t already tracked him down? That he’s not currently being held captive in the back of a truck, on his way to his death?’

‘Shut up!’ Seungcheol yelled again, grabbing the man’s arm from beside him and twisting it into a position that gave off a snapping noise. The man cried out, then laughed again. 

Seungcheol was panicking. What if they had? What if that rat was telling the truth? 

He slowly began to feel his world melt away around him. He shouldn’t be here. He should be with Jeonghan. He felt nauseous. It was all wrong.

‘You really do love him,’ the man croaked, breaking through Seungcheol’s hysteria. ‘It’s sickening.’

‘Seungcheol!’

Recognising the voice as if he knew it better than his own, Seungcheol’s attention turned towards the ground below, on the pavement. The crowd was beginning to thicken. There were police officers aiming guns- some were beginning to force their way into the building. They were shouting up at him, but Seungcheol couldn’t hear anything, because his eyes landed upon a pair of eyes that he adored, staring up at him, wide, screaming his name. Jeonghan. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but just seeing his face, knowing that he was alive, untouched- he felt his grip relax, and could even manage the slightest smile at him, as if to say, ‘It’s okay.’

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

Something slid into his stomach with force. It was sharp and cold, although what began leaking from the spot of penetration was sticky and warm. 

The pain washed over him, forcing him against the ground. He was winded. He couldn’t breathe. The beautiful image of Jeonghan standing below disintegrated from his mind, and was instead replaced with disbelief and agony.

He’d been stabbed.

Feeling something warm inside his throat, he coughed, and red liquid sprayed from between his lips. Triumphant, the other man stood over him, then dropped down to pin Seungcheol’s weakened body to the floor. He held a hand to his throat.

‘I’ve been waiting for this moment a very long time,’ he said. ‘To finally kill you.’

Seungcheol couldn’t speak. It hurt too much. The knife still sat in his stomach, skewering his organs, orchestrating a fountain of blood.

‘Poor Jeonghan. He won’t be able to protect himself without you.’

Tears were spilling down his face now. He shook his head with much effort. ‘N-no, you c-‘

‘Get off him!’

Upon hearing Jeonghan’s voice, a sense of relief flooded him- yet paranoia, too, as he pictured his boyfriend walking into fire, unarmed. He wanted to shout out to him, but any sort of movement submerged him in agony.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan, presumably lying eyes upon the weapon imbedded in Seungcheol’s body, cried out. Seungcheol could hear him yelling things. Insults.

The man atop of him laughed again, and said, ‘He’ll be gone shortly, don’t you worry. It’ll be just us too.’

‘You fucking dick!’ Jeonghan was screaming. Seungcheol could hear him running over, the rubber of his shoes hitting the concrete. ‘How could you do that, you bastard? You scum!’

An idea materialised inside Seungcheol’s clouded and dysphoric head. With a roar of anguish, he took the knife from his stomach and thrust it upwards at his distracted captor. He lodged it in his thigh, twisting it, and only removed it only once hearing him cry out in pain. 

The man fell down, overcome with shock and discomfort. Immediately seizing his chance, Jeonghan raced to Seungcheol’s side, heaving him to his feet. He, like Seungcheol, was sobbing. Violently. His face was pale as he held the assassin upright, eyes staring down at the blood spilling from his stomach. He shook his head over and over again.

‘N-no, this can’t be happening,’ he whimpered. ‘This can’t be real. You can’t die like this.’

Seungcheol attempted to smile at his boyfriend’s concern. He tried his best to speak calmly, but with every passing second, the pain worsened. ‘I’m okay,’ he murmured. ‘I’m okay, Jeonghan. We’re okay.’

Jeonghan wept. He nodded. ‘You’ll be okay. We’ll get you to a hospital. You won’t die. You can’t die.’

‘I know. It’s okay- stop crying.’

‘I-I can’t, I can’t stop crying,’ he bawled. ‘You fucking asshole, I can’t believe you fucking did this, and now you’re lying- you’re just pretending you’re okay, a-and-‘

‘Jeonghan, stop crying. It’s okay.’

Then Jeonghan heard it- the sound of the gun resonating across the skyline. He expected to feel it, in his chest, the bullet; but instead, he felt Seungcheol’s weight collapse suddenly onto his own, pushing them to the floor, with the assassin’s entire body suddenly limp.

Jeonghan screamed. Everything happened so fast. He saw the blood now coming from Seungcheol’s head, all over his hair, his face, his own lap, the floor; he heard the door to the rooftop fling open, and the shouts of the armed officers, telling the other shooter to drop his weapon; he heard his own wailing, and he heard his own chokes for air as he retched on the tears suffocating him, and he heard himself screeching at the officers, yelling for help, yelling for an ambulance- and then, he was only aware of one thing:

Seungcheol wasn’t okay. They weren’t okay. Nothing was okay, because Seungcheol was going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not over yet. but don't get your hopes up>:)) (and, yes, i'm crying too)


	24. The Last Meeting

Everything ached. Every muscle in his body, every thought that crossed his mind. Every second was agony without the boy with caramel-coloured eyes. Every second was agony without knowing he’d come home to Seungcheol’s warm arms each night, or without hearing his voice call through the flat, or without being able to watch him grin.   
Everything hurt.

He missed him so much.

‘Jeonghan,’ Areum repeated for the third time impatiently. 

Jeonghan stopped staring at his coffee- the colour of Seungcheol’s eyes. Snapping from his trance, he ignored Areum, and decided to add more milk, in order to distract himself. He didn’t give her a reply. He stirred, and he stared at the spoon, churning amongst the whirlpool of brown and white, and then turned his attention out onto the hospital gardens.

‘Jeonghan, you can’t keep this act up,’ she continued. ‘It will kill you.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘You can’t pretend he’s not there. You can’t avoid it like this. Listen. I know you’re in shock, but you have to corporate with the police. And you need to see Seungcheol. You can’t live in denial. It’s not healthy.’

Jeonghan remained silent. He didn’t feel like drinking the coffee Areum had bought him anymore. He’d lost all appetite since the rooftop instance. Jeonghan looked chalky-faced and wan. Shadows bruised the skin beneath his dull eyes, and his hair looked drab, and hadn’t even been tied back in a ponytail, but stuck out in all directions. 

‘I know you’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. No offence, but you look terrible.’ She softened her voice, and moved her head in order to catch his attention. ‘Do you think he’d want to see you like this, Jeonghan? Don’t you think he’d be mad at you?’

He looked away.

‘You can’t just mope around in silence.’

‘I can,’ he bleated feebly. His voice was dry.

Areum sighed and stretched her hands forward. ‘I’m not saying I know what you’re going through, but I’m in a similar situation. I could lose my brother. I love him more than anything. And I know you love him dearly too, and I know very well that if he was in your situation, he’d be fighting his way in order to see you.’

His chest ached. ‘If I keep pretending,’ he mumbled, ‘then it’s like he’s already gone. Dead. It will be less painful when he actually dies.’

‘Jeonghan!’ Areum protested, trying her best to keep her voice low, let still coming off as distraught. Jeonghan knew she was attempting to soothe him, or the situation, at least, but his words were testing her pastoral abilities. ‘He won’t. You can’t say things like that.’

‘Don’t be so naïve,’ he bit back. ‘You know very well that he won’t wake up from that coma. You’ve seen the way the doctors look at him. At us. They pity us because they know he won’t survive.’

It was Areum’s turn to fall silent this time. Jeonghan could see tears beginning to well inside her eyes, and with it brought a stab of guilt to his stomach. It was as if her forced hopeful front had crumbled away. Her lower lip wobbled.

‘Stop speaking like that,’ she said as firmly as possible. ‘He’s still alive. He’s not gone yet.’ Then she took a shaky sip from her drink, with her fingers trembling as she set the mug bag down in its saucer. ‘But we do need to think about the funeral. I-if there is one. I-I was thinking of white flowers on the coffin. A white theme. The funeral directors suggested a red theme but I didn’t think it was very appropriate.’ She smiled weakly.

Jeonghan didn’t want to sugar-coat everything. He didn’t like how Areum seemed to be avoiding the undeniable truth. ‘I’ll visit him in a few days. Maybe.’

‘Tomorrow,’ she cut in. All of a sudden, her voice was quiet, and she couldn’t even bear to look the boy in the face. Her expression became distorted with sorrow. ‘They turn off his machine the day after.’

The boy’s face fell slack. ‘They’re stopping his life support?’

‘Like you said- his survival rate is low.’ Her voice was wobbling. ‘There’s no point keeping him alive if there’s no brain activity.’

The twisting pain in Jeonghan’s stomach worsened, and he brought a hand in front of his mouth to prevent himself from gagging. The doctors’ decision was final- they wouldn’t go back on their word. Although he’d been acting as if he was too numb to be affected by Seungcheol’s foreboding death, it was a lie- it would hurt more than anything he’d ever felt before; a pain that would never go away, that would intoxicate him, consume him. Jeonghan’s worst fear was finally becoming a reality. The inevitable was going to happen. 

Seungcheol was really going to die.

‘No,’ he said. He stood to his feet, the metal of his chair legs screeching against the floor. Nausea washed over him. ‘No, I can’t do this, Areum, I’m sorry.’

Areum tried to protest as he ran away, but it was useless. Jeonghan was already gone.

-

Jeonghan didn’t tell anyone about visiting Seungcheol later that night. In fact, he deliberately went out of visiting hours, so that he wouldn’t bump into Wonwoo or Areum or anyone who would pity him. He didn’t want pity. 

He wanted Seungcheol.

It was past midnight. There was one nurse on duty near his cubicle, but after she saw the state Jeonghan was in, she silently let him through out of sympathy.

It was his first time seeing Seungcheol since he’d last held the assassin in his arms on the rooftop. He’d told himself not to cry when spotting the patient. But as soon as his eyes landed upon the boy’s tousled ebony hair and closed eyes, he felt every bone in his body ache.

His skin was pale- too pale. Anaemic. His body was dressed in an oversized hospital gown that didn’t fit him at all and clung awkwardly to his frame. It made such a change to his usual ironed shirt and skinny jeans that Jeonghan was so used to seeing him wear. All of this was wrong. None of it was ‘Seungcheol’ in any way. There were roses and lilies shoved into glass vases and cards placed on his bedside table. Seungcheol preferred daises, Jeonghan thought. He thinks cards make the place look cluttered. He’d never sleep with a blanket on. He didn’t like having the air purifier on at night. He kept his slippers at the end of the bed, not at the side. This is all so wrong.

He wanted to get rid of it. All of it. He hated the tubes feasting off of his blood, sucking onto him in some sort of spider web formation. He hated the oxygen mask on his face lower face, obscuring the view of his beautiful plump lips that were usually so touchable and inviting. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to remove all the machinery and sentimental crap. He wanted to bin every last thing. 

There was a clip attached to Seungcheol’s finger. As Jeonghan sat himself down, he prodded it a little, making sure he wouldn’t set off any sort of hideous beeping noise, before silently slipping his fingers through his boyfriend’s. 

But it felt wrong. His fingers were usually warm. His fingers would usually squeeze back. These fingers were cold and unresponsive. It didn’t feel like Seungcheol at all.

They’d parted his hair to the side. Seungcheol preferred it parted in the middle. With his spare hand, Jeonghan reached up and combed his fingers through the boy’s locks, being careful not to pull on any knots, and rearranged it how Seungcheol used to in their bathroom mirror. His hair was soft. But it smelt of hospitals and cleanliness and not of coffee or leather or their flat. Jeonghan left his hand there for a few moments, against the boy’s forehead, before trailing down his cheek. His skin was silky but cold and papery-looking. It didn’t feel like the cheeks that Jeonghan used to cup his hands around and kiss tenderly. It didn’t feel like the skin that Jeonghan used to trail over with his finger when they lay in bed, bored, or the skin that used to ghost over his own as they bound together in passion.

Jeonghan stared desperately at Seungcheol’s closed eyes as if beginning for them to open that very moment. But from the state Seungcheol was currently in, that would never happen.

Seungcheol was there, somewhere, under the wounds and the brain damage and corpse of a body. Seungcheol was there, longing to awaken. Seungcheol was there- but, at the same time, he wasn’t at all. He was long gone.

At that thought, Jeonghan let out a sob. He knew there was a chance Seungcheol could wake up. He knew there was the teeniest tiniest chance that his eyes would open, and he’d probably be yelling at Jeonghan, telling him he’s an asshole for crying, and Jeonghan would yell at him back, calling him an asshole for pretending it would all be okay. But that wouldn’t happen. Seungcheol was doomed the very moment the bullet had gone into his head and skimmed the most vital parts of his brain, leaving him brain damaged, leaving him in a coma, leaving him better off dead.

He wouldn’t wake up. There was no point in pretending he would. There was no point in keeping a dead body alive.

Jeonghan silently repositioned the equipment around Seungcheol’s body before slipping into bed next to him. He wrapped his arms around his body, leaning his head against his chest, just to hear his heart beat- just to know he was alive.

Tears saturated the material beneath Jeonghan’s cheek. ‘Asshole,’ he murmured. ‘You said you’d be okay. But they’re going to turn you off tomorrow. You’re really going to die tomorrow.’

He snivelled.

‘You said it was better off that my boyfriend died than my fiancée, and I see why now. You said it would be less painful, but this hurts like hell.’

His voice had reduced itself to a whimper. ‘If you wake up, Seungcheol, then I’ll marry you. For definite. No hesitation. We’ll do all the stuff we planned to do. We’ll have a whole life ahead of us. I’ll take you out for a nice meal. Italian, because it’s your favourite. We'll come back and we'll marathon TV series or films whilst you play with my hair and we cuddle, and maybe we'll eat ice cream. We'll make out a lot and have sex or we could just star gaze and drink wine under a blanket.’ 

Jeonghan screwed his own eyelids shut.

‘We’ll go back to that fairground we went to on our first date and we’ll make out and I’ll ask you to marry me and we’ll have a small discreet wedding in Switzerland maybe, and Mingyu will be my best man and Wonwoo will be yours and I’ll do my hair how you do it in the park that day. And then we’ll grow old together and watch the stars each night and remember how lucky we are to be alive and next to each other. and I’ll tell you how glad I am you quit that damn job. Or we could do whatever you want. Whatever you prefer. I don’t mind.’ 

He bit down on his lip in order to stop himself from sobbing. 

‘I don’t care. I don’t care what happens as long as you wake up, Seungcheol. Just wake up. Please. I can’t live like this. I can’t live alone, without you. I need you. I love you so so much, more than anything I’ve ever loved, and anything I will ever love. This is destroying me. I just want you, Seungcheol. Asshole. I love you and how stubborn and cocky and annoying you are and I love your eyes and your lips and your veins and the squidginess of your cheeks and your tummy and your hands and your voice and your laugh and your smile and your everything. I love you.’

He ran his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair, and he hummed Seungcheol’s favourite song, through tears, and before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cried so much when writing this omfjgkg. and its not the end !! not yet !!


	25. The Ending

He refused to be there for when they turned off Seungcheol’s life support. In fact, he couldn’t even bring himself to be there for the funeral. As Areum and Wonwoo and Junhui sat inside the crematorium, Jeonghan, unsuitable for a public appearance, sat with his knees to his chest, hugging his shins, and looking out upon the rain-deluged city from the balcony of Seungcheol’s flat. 

He felt absolutely nothing. Everything was numb.

He didn’t even feel anything when the doorbell rang- Seungcheol’s doorbell, to Seungcheol’s flat. He didn’t even feel anything when he heard the intruder walk in, uninvited, and come and sit beside him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jisoo said.

Emotionally-speaking, Jeonghan didn’t give a response. He stared blankly at the foggy rooftops.

‘Everyone says that,’ he replied.

‘But I am, Jeonghan,’ Jisoo said soothingly. ‘Genuinely. I feel like it’s all my fault.’

Jeonghan was too paralysed to feel angry. As much as he wanted it to, no rage-driven insults came to his mind. No fury sparked within his chest. No motive fed bitter words ready to flood from his mouth.

Jeonghan ignored his bleating. ‘Seungcheol died in my arms on that rooftop. Not in that hospital bed.’

Jisoo said, ‘I came to visit him. I gave him grapes.’

‘He hates grapes.’ 

Jeonghan corrected himself.

‘Hated.’

‘Well he wasn’t going to eat them, was he?’

Jeonghan felt a raindrop trickle down the side of his cheek. At least, he thought it was the rain; it was cold, and seeped into the skin of his brittle lips, as if it were a tear.

Vacantly, he looked across at Jisoo and asked, ‘Why are you here?’

‘I knew I’d find you at his flat,’ Jisoo said. His eyes glistened with something that could almost be interpreted as sympathy. ‘I wanted to comfort you. I know how much you’re aching. I know how lonely you’re feeling.’

Normally Jeonghan would’ve protested. He would’ve spat at him and hurled insults and claimed he had a boyfriend so much better than Jisoo- but, at this point, nothing mattered, and he was beyond caring. So he stayed silent. He stonily stared at the other boy, watching the rain spoil his formerly flossy hair.

‘Live with me,’ Jisoo said. ‘Let me replace Seungcheol. Let me make you happy again.’

Jeonghan didn’t decline his offer or scorn him- he didn’t care enough to do so. 

Nothing mattered anymore.

He didn’t nod. But he let Jisoo take him by the hand and drive him back to his studio apartment, where the other man dressed him in fresh and familiar-smelling clothes and make him dinner. He let him kiss him and touch him and love him passionately, because he didn’t care, and didn’t feel anything at all. 

Every day felt the same. Every day was just as hard as the last, if not harder. The hours all blurred into one. Jeonghan wouldn’t eat anything except the French toast and strawberries Jisoo cooked them both for breakfast, or the meals that the younger boy would make if he got home from work in time. It wasn’t that he wanted to lose weight. He had no appetite, and eating was too much of an effort. He didn’t care for his body. He didn’t care for his health. He didn’t care for anything.

He hadn’t even touched a bottle of vodka since Seungcheol’s death- which was uncharacteristic of him, seeming as that had been one of the only ways he’d coped with Jisoo’s absence until he met Seungcheol. 

That was because, then, he’d been aching. Severely so. But the lack of Seungcheol in his sad excuse of a “life” induced a completely different feeling- one of nothingness, one that meant that the lack of Seungcheol was a lack of Jeonghan’s being and existence, too.

No one nor nothing could replace the gaping and all-consuming Seungcheol-shaped hole. 

No one could call him ‘asshole’ like Seungcheol had done. No one could burn the bottom of the carbonara like Seungcheol did. No one could make him feel like Seungcheol did when saying his name against his neck. He couldn’t even pretend that when Jisoo murmured his name, it was Seungcheol’s voice, or when Jisoo ran his hands over his skin, it was Seungcheol’s hands- he couldn’t pretend, because now that Seungcheol was gone, he’d lost all feeling. 

Jeonghan was a corpse. Without Seungcheol, he was nothing.

He pretended to be a functioning, feeling human for many months. Twelve, in fact. It wasn’t until one year after Seungcheol’s death that he dressed in his finest clothes - the ones that Seungcheol had bought him to wear to their first and last dinner party together – and caused Jisoo to ask, ‘Where are you going dressed up like that?’

Jeonghan replied, ‘I’m going to see him.’

There was no one living at Seungcheol’s flat. There was no furniture. No Seungcheol smell. No nothing. 

As he walked through the rooms, he could see him and Seungcheol lounging on the sofa, limbs intertwined. He could feel Seungcheol’s ample hands run themselves down the side of Jeonghan’s waist, braiding his hair, tucking it behind his ear, raking his fingers through. He could feel Seungcheol’s hands on his body as they lay in bed, ghosting over Jeonghan’s skin, causing sensual moans, keeping him held together, piece by piece. 

He craved to smell Seungcheol, the fresh aroma of shampoo in his damp hair, the scent of his neck, his cold, minty breath against his lips. 

He could hear Seungcheol’s voice bouncing off the walls, baritone and placid, saying words of comfort or words of hilarity or words of passion, or murmurs, or singing, as he would sing or rap along to his favourite music. He could hear his keys in the door, when he’d come home, and he remembered the solace Jeonghan found upon hearing that noise, then seeing him in the doorway, beaming, and feeling his body in his warm, loving arms. He could hear their laughter; their tears; their conversations. He could hear and see everything, but it wasn’t there. 

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and he wanted to yell and he wanted to shout at the top of his lungs until his throat felt tight. He wanted to vomit until his stomach had nothing left to give and he wanted to bleed until his veins were dry. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t feel anything.

He went into the bedroom. Their bedroom. The floor and walls were bathed in a golden, late-afternoon glow. It hit Jeonghan’s cheeks and soaked into his skin. He stood there, in the middle of the room, and he heard every word they’d ever said, every truth and lie they’d ever told, every ‘I love you’ and every ‘you’re an asshole’. 

He reached into his pocket. Seungcheol had left him a few things in his will- his favourite gun, an envelope of pressed daisies once knotted into a flower-crown, and the first picture they took together, processed onto proper photo paper with the words ‘Asshole #1’ and ‘Asshole #2’ conjoined to their heads with an arrow. The envelope and picture sat in his right pocket, and the gun in his left. He took it out, fingers brushing the cold metal as he did so, and stared at it.

And then he saw him. Seungcheol. He was stood in front of Jeonghan, silent, dressed in his suit. He looked just the same as he’d always known him to be. His hair was black and tousled, parted in the middle, framing a set of coppery eyes. His cheeks were flushed, tan, and not pallid or sickly. He smiled at Jeonghan; a smile he knew so well, had studied so often, found happiness in- that caused him to smile in return, finally spilling emotion, with tears tumbling down his sun-glazed cheeks. Every emotion he’d ever felt since knowing him and every emotion he should’ve felt since Seungcheol’s death flooded over him, submerging him, drowning him, capsizing him, consuming him.

Seungcheol didn’t need to say anything. As Jeonghan became more and more aware of the gun in his hands, and the urge to use it became more and more unpreventable, Jeonghan knew what he to do. What he wanted to do; what he needed do.

He brought the end of the gun up to his head. He was trembling. With excitement, he thought, for being able to see Seungcheol again.

The muzzle pressed into his temple, cold and taunting and unforgiving, yet ultimately welcoming.

The last thought that went through his head was:

‘I miss you. I love you. I’ll be with you soon.’

And then, he pulled the trigger.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONT SUE OR REPORT ME BC I DID ACTUALLY ADD AN MC DEATH TAG  
> also im on a hiatus until 23/08 so i wont be able to reply to ur sobbing and death threats and attempts to sue me im sorry>:)


	26. Alternative Ending

‘…I can’t live like this. I can’t live alone, without you. I need you. I love you so so much, more than anything I’ve ever loved, and anything I will ever love. This is de-stroying me. I just want you, Seungcheol. Asshole. I love you and how stubborn and cocky and annoying you are and I love your eyes and your lips and your veins and the squidginess of your cheeks and your tummy and your hands and your voice and your laugh and your smile and your everything. I love you.’  
He ran his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair, and he hummed Seungcheol’s fa-vourite song, through tears, and before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep.  
It wasn’t until he heard something alarming that he finally awoke- something harsh, a beeping noise; it got louder and louder and increasingly more urgent as Jeonghan forced himself to awaken. The noise pierced his ears, and as he finally woke up, squinting, the beeping noise swam amongst the troubled shouts of nurses, one more loud than the rest, tugging at his arm, and telling him to give Seungcheol some space.  
It wasn’t until he was fully conscious and dragged upright that he realised quite what was going on.  
Seungcheol’s heart was crashing. He’d stopped breathing.  
Jeonghan’s mouth fell open in distress. He shook his head. No, he thought frantically. He can’t die like this. This can’t be happening. He can’t die.  
They were yelling at Jeonghan to leave. That he shouldn’t be in here. That he needed to give Seungcheol some space. But Jeonghan refused.  
‘W-what’s going on?’ he cried hysterically. He tried to shove the doctors away from him. ‘What’s happening? S-someone do something!’  
There were tears pouring down his face. He wasn’t sure whether they’d only just began pouring from his eyes or whether he’d been sobbing in his sleep. But, right in that moment, he felt numb again, and his legs wouldn’t move, and his eyes wouldn’t shift from the sight of the doctors pressing machines against Seungcheol’s chest in order to revive his unanimated heart.

It took five doctors to remove Jeonghan from the man’s beside. Even then, he wouldn’t stop thrashing and screaming and wailing. 

He only picked himself off the floor when Areum was suddenly at his side, hands bracing his shoulders, trying to stop him from rocking back and forth in the ball he’d curled himself into. She told him it was okay, that he didn’t have to cry anymore, that Seungcheol was okay- that Seungcheol was alive.

And still, Jeonghan cried. He cried as Areum led him towards Seungcheol’s bedside. He cried as he laced their fingers together again, feeling the sudden warmth of his palms, seeing the sudden colours of his cheeks. He cried as he took in the shade of brown in his eyes as Seungcheol stared right back at him, tears glazing his newly flushed skin.

‘Why are you crying?’ Seungcheol asked. Every syllable sounded like a struggle, like he’d focused all his concentration upon forming every word.

‘You asshole,’ Jeonghan choked. ‘I thought you’d died. I thought you’d gone.’

Seungcheol looked sad. ‘I don’t understand where I am. I don’t understand what happened.’

‘Amnesia,’ Areum said in a tiny voice behind Jeonghan. ‘It’s only temporary, but he’ll struggle remembering things for a little while. He’ll be confused, they said.’

This caused Jeonghan to cry even more. They were ugly sobs that retched from his lungs like vomit, and his body shook as he clung to Seungcheol’s fingers.

‘Don’t ever leave me again,’ Jeonghan said to him. ‘Don’t you dare.’

-

Much later, on that day, like most days, Seungcheol and Jeonghan lay in bed. Jeonghan fed him spoonfuls of food, and, usually, Seungcheol would protest, claiming he was a grown adult and he didn’t need to be treated like a baby. But he eventually stopped arguing when he realised how much he’d missed Jeonghan, and how much Jeonghan had missed him, and how utterly broken Jeonghan had become. He began to grin every time Jeonghan proposed the idea, which sparked the same reaction on the younger boy’s lips.

Seungcheol hadn’t gone back to work. In fact, Wonwoo closed down the business- mainly due to Mingyu’s protests, too, after seeing first-hand the danger it ensued.

They spent every day together as if it would be their last; life had been made so much more precious for the both of them. Jeonghan would always tell Seungcheol how much he loved him, even if it wasn’t necessary, even if it was at the most random of times. And Seungcheol would do the same. If they were washing up, he’d say it. If he was walking Jeonghan to work, he’d say it. They never said it so much so that it became insignificant, but instead, every time it became more meaningful.

That day, Jeonghan took a shower, and returned to see Seungcheol dressed in a suit -the suit he wore to the dinner party- holding Jeonghan’s matching attire.

Jeonghan opened his mouth in question, but Seungcheol said, ‘Get changed. I’m taking you on a date.’

Once dressed, Jeonghan drove them towards the edge of the city, given directions by Seungcheol. He listened to Seungcheol’s favourite radio station and watched him sing along, rather animatedly, with no complaints, and he felt very much in love.

Seungcheol’s directions lead them to the fairground.

‘You’re taking me on a date to the fairground?’ Jeonghan asked as he parked up, unable to hide the smile leaking onto his now pinkened cheeks.

Seungcheol scoffed. ‘Don’t flatter yourself.’

The older man took his hand and led him through the swarms of people and onto the Ferris Wheel. Remembering the squeeze they’d had last time, Seungcheol motioned for Jeonghan to sit in his lap, which he did, gladly. 

The sky was dripping with a winter sunset. By the time the ride came to the top, the sun soaked the city in a golden glow that seemed to fill the carriage both visually and emotionally. Jeonghan smiled, and, as Seungcheol saw the corners of his mouth rise skywards, he couldn’t help but do the same.

He nuzzled his face into his hair and enclosed his arms around his body.

Just feeling him in his arms, knowing that they were both sharing in the same smile, flooded Seungcheol with adoration and joy.

‘Marry me,’ he blurted, without a single hesitation.

Jeonghan turned around. He watched the light spill into the browns in Seungcheol’s irises and stain the ends of his eyelashes and hair a shade of gold. 

He decided, right there and then, that he was the happiest man alive- just as Seungcheol was, too.

Jeonghan said,

‘Okay, asshole.’

And everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt like this ending was more poorly written than the other one but !! i had way too much emotional connection to the fic i couldnt just kill them both off:((  
> okay but this really is the end of kiss me, kill me !! this is a rly bittersweet moment. tbh this story was just this random one-shot kind of thing i thought of late at night and i never wouldve thought it would actually grow into a fic i'm this invested in. but anyways, thank you all so much for ur support!! i love you guys so much aa i wouldnt have been able to do it without your comments and motivation.  
> thank you again!! and gbye<3  
> ~bel


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